*    V 


,  ..y 


\J 


THE 
EAGLE'S  SHADOW 


"  Margaret  " 


THE 
EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

By 
JAMES   BRANCH   CABELL 


Illunrattd  by  Will  Grtff 
DtcormteJ  by  Blantbt  Otttrtag 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
1904 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
The  Curtis  Publishing  Company 

Copyright,  1904,  by 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 

Published,  October,  1904 


An  abridged  vertion  of  thii  itory  appeared  urially  in  THI  SATURDAY  EVENING  POST 

during  the  rummer  of  IQO4-     The  novel  it  here  given  in  iti  entirety 

*i  originally  conceived  by  the  author 


C/f4- 


To 


In  trust  that  the  enterprise  may  be  judged 

less  by  the  merits  of  its  factor  than 

by  those  of  its  patron 


3756067 


K 

11 

P       CONTENTS      -JJ 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I 

II. 

-8 

III. 

•                       19 

IV. 

•        35 

V. 

45 

VI. 

.      48 

VII. 

62 

VIII. 

.        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .63 

IX. 

66 

X. 

•        77 

XI 

g* 

XII 

87 

XIII. 

.        .        .        .        .        .        .        .103 

XIV. 

112 

XV. 

.       114 

XVI. 

.           .           .127 

XVII. 

139 

XVIII. 

.           .           .                       .       143 

XIX. 

....           .           .       149 

Vll 


vin                   CONT 

ENTS—  Continued 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XX.     . 

XXI.     . 

.  169 

XXII.     . 

.   171 

XXIII.     .        .        . 

179 

XXIV.     . 

.     .          .  187 

XXV.     . 

.    199 

XXVI.     . 

.   207 

XXVII.     . 

.   209 

XXVIII.     . 

.   213 

XXIX.     . 

216 

XXX.     . 

XXXI.     . 

.     234 

XXXII.     . 

.    237 

XXXIII.     . 

244 

THE   CHARACTERS 

COLONEL  THOMAS  HUGONIN,  formerly  in  the  service 
of  Her  Majesty  the  Empress  of  India,  Margaret 
Hugonin's  father. 

FREDERICK  R.  WOODS,  the  founder  of  Selwoode, 
Margaret's  uncle  by  marriage. 

BILLY  WOODS,  his  nephew,  Margaret's  quondam 
fiance'. 

HUGH  VAN  ORDEN,  a  rather  young  young  man, 
Margaret's  adorer. 

MARTIN  JEAL,  M.  D.,  of  Fairhaven,  Margaret's  family 
physician. 

COCK-EYE  FLINKS,  a  gentleman  of  leisure,  Margaret's 
chance  acquaintance. 

PETHERIDGE  JUKESBURY,  president  of  the  Society  for 
the  Suppression  of  Nicotine  and  the  Nude, 
Margaret's  almoner  in  furthering  the  cause  of 
education  and  temperance. 

FELIX  KENNASTON,  a  minor  poet,  Margaret's  almoner 
in  furthering  the  cause  of  literature  and  art. 

SARAH  ELLEN  HAGGAGE,  Madame  President  of  the 
Ladies'  League  for  the  Edification  of  the  Impe 
cunious,  Margaret's  almoner  in  furthering  the 
cause  of  charity  and  philanthropy. 


THE  CHARACTERS — Continued 

KATHLEEN  EPPES  SAUMAREZ,  a  lecturer  before 
women's  clubs,  Margaret's  almoner  in  further 
ing  the  cause  of  theosophy,  nature  study,  and 
rational  dress. 

ADELE  HAGGAGE,  Mrs.  Haggage's  daughter,  Margaret's 
rival  with  Hugh  Van  Orden. 

And  MARGARET  HUGONIN. 

The  other  participants  in  the  story  are  WILKINS, 
CELESTINE,  THE  SPRING  MOON  and  THE  EAGLE. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Margaret" 


Fronti  tpiect 
FACING  PAGE 


4  Altogether,'  says  Colonel  Hugonin,  '  they  strike  me 
as  being  the  most  ungodly  menagerie  ever  gotten 
together  under  one  roof  since  Noah  landed  on 
Ararat"  ...  ....  8 

Then,  for  no  apparent  reason,  Margaret  flushed,  and 
Billy  .  .  .  thought  it  vastly  becoming ".  .  38 

Billy  Woods" .60 

Billy  unfolded  it  slowly,  with  a  puzzled  look  growing 
in  his  countenance  "  ......  98 

'My  lady,'  he  asked,  very  softly,  'haven't  you  any 
good  news  for  me  on  this  wonderful  morning?'  "  .  154 

Miss  Hugonin  pouted.  'You  needn't  be  such  a 
grandfather,'  she  suggested  helpfully."  .  .  174 

'  Regarded  them  with  alert  eyes  "        .        .        .        .     220 

xi 


THE 
EAGLE'S  SHADOW 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 
I 

THIS  is  the  story  of  Margaret  Hugonin  and 
of  the  Eagle.  And  with  your  permission, 
we  will  for  the  present  defer  all  consider 
ation  of  the  bird,  and  devote  our  unqualified 
attention  to  Margaret. 

I  have  always  esteemed  Margaret  the  obvious, 
sensible,  most  appropriate  name  that  can  be 
bestowed  upon  a  girl-child,  for  it  is  a  name  that 
fits  a  woman — any  woman — as  neatly  as  her 
proper  size  in  gloves. 

Yes,  the  first  point  I  wish  to  make  is  that  a 
woman-child,  once  baptised  Margaret,  is  thereby 
insured  of  a  suitable  name.  Be  she  grave  or  gay 
in  after-life,  wanton  or  pious  or  sullen,  comely  or 
otherwise,  there  will  be  no  possible  chance  of 
incongruity;  whether  she  develop  a  taste  for 
winter-gardens  or  the  higher  mathematics,  whether 
she  take  to  golf  or  clinging  organdies,  the  event 
is  provided  for.  One  has  only  to  consider  for  a 
moment,  and  if  among  a  choice  of  Madge,  Mar- 


4  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

jorie,  Meta,  Maggie,  Margherita,  Peggy,  and 
Gretchen,  and  countless  others — if  among  all 
these  he  cannot  find  a  name  that  suits  her  to  a 
T — why,  then,  the  case  is  indeed  desperate  and 
he  may  permissibly  fall  back  upon  Madam  or — 
if  the  cat  jump  propitiously,  and  at  his  own 
peril — on  Darling  or  Sweetheart. 

The  second  proof  that  this  name  must  be 
the  best  of  all  possible  names  is  that  Margaret 
Hugonin  bore  it.  And  so  the  murder  is  out. 
You  may  suspect  what  you  choose.  I  warn  you 
in  advance  that  I  have  no  part  whatever  in  her 
story;  and  if  my  admiration  for  her  given  name 
appear  somewhat  excessive,  I  can  only  protest 
that  in  this  dissentient  world  every  one  has  a 
right  to  his  own  taste.  I  knew  Margaret.  I 
admired  her.  And  if  in  some  unguarded  moment 
I  may  have  carried  my  admiration  to  the  point 
of  indiscretion,  her  husband  most  assuredly  knows 
all  about  it,  by  this,  and  he  and  I  are  still  the 
best  of  friends.  So  you  perceive  that  if  I  ever 
did  so  far  forget  myself  it  could  scarcely  have 
amounted  to  a  hanging  matter. 

I  am  doubly  sure  that  Margaret  Hugonin  was 
beautiful,  for  the  reason  that  I  have  never  found 
a  woman  under  forty-five  who  shared  my  opinion. 
If  you  clap  a  Testament  into  my  hand,  I  cannot 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  5 

affirm  that  women  are  eager  to  recognise  beauty 
in  one  another;  at  the  utmost  they  concede  that 
this  or  that  particular  feature  is  well  enough. 
But  when  a  woman  is  clean-eyed  and  straight- 
limbed,  and  has  a  cheery  heart,  she  really  cannot 
help  being  beautiful;  and  when  Nature  accords 
her  a  sufficiency  of  dimples  and  an  infectious 
laugh,  I  protest  she  is  well-nigh  irresistible.  And 
all  these  Margaret  Hugonin  had. 

And  surely  that  is  enough. 

I  shall  not  endeavour,  then,  to  picture  her 
features  to  you  in  any  nicely  picked  words.  Her 
chief  charm  was  that  she  was  Margaret. 

And  besides  that,  mere  carnal  vanities  are 
trivial  things;  a  gray  eye  or  so  is  not  in  the  least 
to  the  purpose.  Yet  since  it  is  the  immemorial 
custom  of  writer- folk  to  inventory  such  posses 
sions  of  their  heroines,  here  you  have  a  catalogue 
of  her  personal  attractions.  Launce's  method 
will  serve  our  turn. 

Imprimis,  there  was  not  very  much  of  her — 
five  feet  three,  at  the  most ;  and  hers  was  the  well- 
groomed  modern  type  that  implies  a  grandfather 
or  two  and  is  in  every  respect  the  antithesis  of 
that  hulking  Venus  of  the  Louvre  whom  people 
pretend  to  admire.  Item,  she  had  blue  eyes;  and 
when  she  talked  with  you,  her  head  drooped  for- 


6  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

ward  a  little.  The  frank,  intent  gaze  of  these  eyes 
was  very  flattering  and,  in  its  ultimate  effect, 
perilous,  since  it  led  you  fatuously  to  believe  that 
she  had  forgotten  there  were  any  other  trousered 
beings  extant.  Later  on  you  found  this  a  de 
cided  error.  Item,  she  had  a  quite  incredible 
amount  of  yellow  hair,  that  was  not  in  the  least 
like  gold  or  copper  or  bronze — I  scorn  the  hack 
neyed  similes  of  metallurgical  poets — but  a 
straightforward  yellow,  darkening  at  the  roots; 
and  she  wore  it  low  down  on  her  neck  in  great 
coils  that  were  held  in  place  by  a  multitude  of 
little  golden  hair-pins  and  divers  corpulent 
tortoise-shell  ones.  Item,  her  nose  was  a  tiny 
miracle  of  perfection;  and  this  was  noteworthy, 
for  you  will  observe  that  Nature,  who  is  an  adept 
at  eyes  and  hair  and  mouths,  very  rarely  achieves 
a  creditable  nose.  Item,  she  had  a  mouth;  and 
if  you  are  a  Gradgrindian  with  a  taste  for  hair 
splitting,  I  cannot  swear  that  it  was  a  particu 
larly  small  mouth.  The  lips  were  rather  full 
than  otherwise;  one  saw  in  them  potentialities  of 
heroic  passion,  and  tenderness,  and  generosity, 
and,  if  you  will,  temper.  No,  her  mouth  was  not 
in  the  least  like  the  pink  shoe-button  of  romance 
and  sugared  portraiture;  it  was  manifestly  de 
signed  less  for  simpering  out  of  a  gilt  frame  or  the 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  7 

dribbling  of  stock  phrases  over  three  hundred 
pages  than  for  gibes  and  laughter  and  cheery 
gossip  and  honest,  unromantic  eating,  as  well  as 
another  purpose,  which,  as  a  highly  dangerous 
topic,  I  decline  even  to  mention. 

There  you  have  the  best  description  of  Mar 
garet  Hugonin  that  I  am  capable  of  giving  you. 
No  one  realises  its  glaring  inadequacy  more  acutely 
than  I. 

Furthermore,  I  stipulate  that  if  in  the  progress 
of  our  comedy  she  appear  to  act  with  an  utter 
lack  of  reason  or  even  common-sense — as  every 
woman  worth  the  winning  must  do  once  or  twice 
in  a  lifetime — that  I  be  permitted  to  record  the 
fact,  to  set  it  down  in  all  its  ugliness,  nay,  even 
to  exaggerate  it  a  little — all  to  the  end  that  I 
may  eventually  exasperate  you  and  goad  you 
into  crying  out,  "  Come,  come,  you  are  not  treating 
the  girl  with  common  justice !" 

For,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  I  should 
desire  you  to  rival  even  me  in  a  liking  for  Margaret 
Hugonin.  And  speaking  for  myself,  I  can  assure 
you  that  I  have  come  long  ago  to  regard  her 
faults  with  the  same  leniency  that  I  accord  my 
own. 


II 


WE  begin  on  a  fine  May  morning  in  Colonel 
Hugonin's  rooms  at  Selwoode,  which  is,  as  you 
may  or  may  not  know,  the  Hugonins'  country- 
place.  And  there  we  discover  the  Colonel 
dawdling  over  his  breakfast,  in  an  intermediate 
stage  of  that  careful  toilet  which  enables  him 
later  in  the  day  to  pass  casual  inspection  as 
turning  forty-nine. 

At  present  the  old  gentleman  is  discussing  the 
members  of  his  daughter's  house-party.  We  will 
omit,  by  your  leave,  a  number  of  picturesque 
descriptive  passages — for  the  Colonel  is,  on 
occasion,  a  man  of  unfettered  speech — and  come 
hastily  to  the  conclusion,  to  the  summing-up  of 
the  whole  matter. 

"Altogether,"  says  Colonel  Hugonin,  "they 
strike  me  as  being  the  most  ungodly  menagerie 
ever  gotten  together  under  one  roof  since  Noah 
landed  on  Ararat." 

Now,  I  am  sorry  that  veracity  compels  me  to 
present  the  Colonel  in  this  particular  state  of 
mind,  for  ordinarily  he  was  as  pleasant-spoken 

8 


"'Altogether,'  says  Colonel  Hugonin,  'they  strike 
me  as  being  the  most  ungodly  menagerie  ever  gotten 
together  under  one  roof  since  Noah  landed  on  Ararat.' ' 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  9 

a  gentleman  as  you  will  be  apt  to  meet  on  the 
longest  summer  day. 

You  must  make  allowances  for  the  fact  that,  on 
this  especial  morning,  he  was  still  suffering  from 
a  recent  twinge  of  the  gout,  and  that  his  toast 
was  somewhat  dryer  than  he  liked  it;  and,  most 
potent  of  all,  that  the  foreign  mail,  just  in,  had 
caused  him  to  rebel  anew  against  the  proprieties 
and  his  daughter's  inclinations,  which  chained 
him  to  Selwoode,  in  the  height  of  the  full  London 
season,  to  preside  over  a  house-party  every 
member  of  which  he  cordially  disliked.  There 
fore,  the  Colonel  having  glanced  through  the  well- 
known  names  of  those  at  Lady  Pevensey's  last 
cotillion,  groaned  and  glared  at  his  daughter,  who 
sat  opposite  him,  and  reviled  his  daughter's 
friends  with  point  and  fluency,  and  characterised 
them  as  above,  for  the  reason  that  he  was  hungered 
at  heart  for  the  shady  side  of  Pall  Mall,  and  that 
their  presence  at  Selwoode  prevented  his  attaining 
this  Elysium.  For,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the 
Colonel  loathed  all  things  American,  saving  his 
daughter,  whom  he  worshipped. 

And,  I  think,  no  one  who  could  have  seen  her 
preparing  his  second  cup  of  tea  would  have  dis 
puted  that  in  making  this  exception  he  acted 
with  a  show  of  reason.  For  Margaret  Hugonin — 


io  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

but,  as  you  know,  she  is  our  heroine,  and,  as  I 
fear  you  have  already  learned,  words  are  very 
paltry  makeshifts  when  it  comes  to  describing 
her.  Let  us  simply  say,  then,  that  Margaret,  his 
daughter,  began  to  make  him  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
add  that  she  laughed. 

Not  unkindly ;  no,  for  at  bottom  she  adored  her 
father — a  comely  Englishman  of  some  sixty-odd, 
who  had  run  through  his  wife's  fortune  and  his 
own,  in  the  most  gallant  fashion — and  she  ac 
corded  his  opinions  a  conscientious,  but  at  times, 
a  sorely  taxed,  tolerance.  That  very  month  she 
had  reached  twenty-three,  the  age  of  omniscience, 
when  the  fallacies  and  general  obtuseness  of  older 
people  become  dishearteningly  apparent. 

"It's  nonsense,"  pursued  the  old  gentleman, 
"utter,  bedlamite  nonsense,  filling  Selwoode  up 
with  writing  people !  Never  heard  of  such  a 
thing.  Gad,  I  do  remember,  as  a  young  man, 
meeting  Thackeray  at  a  garden-party  at  Orleans 
House — gentlemanly  fellow  with  a  broken  nose — 
and  Browning  went  about  a  bit,  too,  now  I  think 
of  it.  People  had  'em  one  at  a  time  to  lend 
flavour  to  a  dinner — like  an  olive;  we  didn't  dine 
on  olives,  though.  You  have  'em  for  breakfast, 
luncheon,  dinner,  and  everything !  I'm  sick  of 
olives,  I  tell  you,  Margaret !" 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  n 

Margaret  pouted. 

''They  ain't  even  good  olives.  I  looked  into 
one  of  that  fellow  Charteris's  books  the  other 
day — that  chap  you  had  here  last  week.  It  was 
bally  rot — proverbs  standing  on  their  heads  and 
grinning  like  dwarfs  in  a  condemned  street-fair ! 
Who  wants  to  be  told  that  impropriety  is  the 
spice  of  life  and  that  a  roving  eye  gathers  re 
morse?  You  may  call  that  sort  of  thing  clever 
ness,  if  you  like;  I  call  it  damn'  foolishness." 
And  the  emphasis  with  which  he  said  this  left  no 
doubt  that  the  Colonel  spoke  his  honest  opinion. 

"Attractive,"  said  his  daughter  patiently,  "  Mr. 
Charteris  is  very,  very  clever.  Mr.  Kennaston 
says  literature  suffered  a  considerable  loss  when 
he  began  to  write  for  the  magazines." 

And  now  that  Margaret  has  spoken,  permit  me 
to  call  your  attention  to  her  voice.  Mellow  and 
suave  and  of  astonishing  volume  was  Margaret's 
voice ;  it  came  not  from  the  back  of  her  throat,  as 
most  of  our  women's  voices  do,  but  from  her  chest ; 
and  I  protest  it  had  the  timbre  of  a  violin.  Men, 
hearing  her  voice  for  the  first  time,  were  wont  to 
stare  at  her  a  little  and  afterward  to  close  their 
hands  slowly,  for  always  its  modulations  had  the 
tonic  sadness  of  distant  music,  and  it  thrilled 
you  to  much  the  same  magnanimity  and  yearning, 


12  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

cloudily  conceived;  and  yet  you  could  not  but 
smile  in  spite  of  yourself  at  the  quaint  emphasis 
fluttering  through  her  speech  and  pouncing  for 
the  most  part  on  the  unlikeliest  word  in  the  whole 
sentence. 

But  I  fancy  the  Colonel  must  have  been  tone- 
deaf.  "Don't  you  make  phrases  for  me!"  he 
snorted;  "you  keep  'em  for  your  menagerie- 
Think !  By  gad,  the  world  never  thinks.  I 
believe  the  world  deliberately  reads  the  six  best- 
selling  books  in  order  to  incapacitate  itself  for 
thinking."  Then,  his  wrath  gathering  emphasis 
as  he  went  on:  "The  longer  I  live  the  plainer  I 
see  Shakespeare  was  right — what  fools  these 
mortals  be,  and  all  that.  There's  that  Haggage 
woman — speech-making  through  the  country  like 
a  hiatused  politician.  It  may  be  philanthropic, 
but  it  ain't  ladylike — no,  begad !  What  has  she 
got  to  do  with  Juvenile  Courts  and  child-labour 
in  the  South,  I'd  like  to  know?  Why  ain't  she 
at  home  attending  to  that  crippled  boy  of  hers — 
poor  little  beggar ! — instead  of  flaunting  through 
America  meddling  with  other  folk's  children?" 

Miss  Hugonin  put  another  lump  of  sugar  into 
his  cup  and  deigned  no  reply. 

"By  gad,"  cried  the  Colonel  fervently,  "if 
you're  so  anxious  to  spend  that  money  of  yours 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  13 

in  charity,  why  don't  you  found  a  Day  Nursery 
for  the  Children  of  Philanthropists — a  place  where 
advanced  men  and  women  can  leave  their  off 
spring  in  capable  hands  when  they're  busied  with 
Mothers'  Meetings  and  Educational  Conferences? 
It  would  do  a  thousand  times  more  good,  I  can 
tell  you,  than  that  fresh  kindergarten  scheme  of 
yours  for  teaching  the  children  of  the  labouring 
classes  to  make  a  new  sort  of  mud-pie." 

"  You  don't  understand  these  things,  at 
tractive,"  Margaret  gently  pointed  out.  "You 
aren't  in  harmony  with  the  trend  of  modern 
thought." 

"No,  thank  God!"  said  the  Colonel,  heartily. 

Ensued  a  silence  during  which  he  chipped  at 
his  egg-shell  in  an  absent-minded  fashion. 

"That  fellow  Kennaston  said  anything  to  you 
yet?"  he  presently  queried. 

"I — I  don't  understand,"  she  protested — oh, 
perfectly  unconvincingly.  The  tea-making,  too, 
engrossed  her  at  this  point  to  an  utterly  im 
probable  extent. 

Thus  it  shortly  befell  that  the  Colonel,  still 
regarding  her  under  intent  brows,  cleared  his 
throat  and  made  bold  to  question  her  generosity 
in  the  matter  of  sugar;  five  lumps  being,  as  he 
suggested,  a  rather  unusual  allowance  for  one  cup. 


i4  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Then,  "Mr.  Kennaston  and  I  are  very  good 
friends,"  said  she,  with  dignity.  And  having 
spoiled  the  first  cup  in  the  making,  she  began  on 
another. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  growled  the  old  gentleman. 
"  I  hope  you  value  his  friendship  sufficiently  not 
to  marry  him.  The  man's  a  fraud — a  flimsy, 
sickening  fraud,  like  his  poetry,  begad,  and  that's 
made  up  of  botany  and  wide  margins  and  in 
decency  in  about  equal  proportions.  It  ain't  fit 
for  a  woman  to  read — in  fact,  a  woman  ought  not 
to  read  anything;  a  comprehension  of  the  Deca 
logue  and  the  cookery-book  is  enough  learning  for 
the  best  of  'em.  Your  mother  never — never ' ' 

Colonel  Hugonin  paused  and  stared  at  the  open 
window  for  a  little.  He  seemed  to  be  interested 
in  something  a  great  way  off. 

"We  used  to  read  Ouida's  books  together," 
he  said,  somewhat  wistfully.  "  Lord,  Lord,  how 
she  revelled  in  Chandos  and  Bertie  Cecil  and 
those  dashing  Life  Guardsmen !  And  she  used 
to  toss  that  little  head  of  hers  and  say  I  was  a 
finer  figure  of  a  man  than  any  of  'em — thirty 
years  ago,  good  Lord !  And  I  was  then,  but  I 
ain't  now.  I'm  only  a  broken-down,  cantanker 
ous  old  fool,"  declared  the  Colonel,  blowing  his 
nose  violently,  "and  that's  why  I'm  quarrelling 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  15 

with  the  dearest,  foolishest  daughter  man  ever 
had.  Ah,  my  dear,  don't  mind  me — run  your 
menagerie  as  you  like,  and  I'll  stand  it." 

Margaret  adopted  her  usual  tactics ;  she  perched 
herself  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  began  to  stroke 
his  cheek  very  gently.  She  often  wondered  as 
to  what  dear  sort  of  a  woman  that  tender-eyed, 
pink-cheeked  mother  of  the  old  miniature  had 
been — the  mother  who  had  died  when  she  was 
two  years  old.  She  loved  the  idea  of  her,  vague 
as  it  was.  And,  just  now,  somehow,  the  notion 
of  two  grown  people  reading  Ouida  did  not  strike 
her  as  being  especially  ridiculous. 

"Was  she  very  beautiful?"  she  asked,  softly. 

"  My  dear,"  said  her  father,  "  you  are  the  picture 
of  her." 

"You  dangerous  old  man!"  said  she,  laughing 
and  rubbing  her  cheek  against  his  in  a  manner 
that  must  have  been  highly  agreeable.  "  Dear,  do 
you  know  that  is  the  nicest  little  compliment  I've 
had  for  a  long  time  ? " 

Thereupon  the  Colonel  chuckled.  "Pay  me 
for  it,  then,"  said  he,  "by  driving  the  dog-cart 
over  to  meet  Billy's  train  to-day.  Eh  ? " 

"I — I  can't,"  said  Miss  Hugonin,  promptly. 

"Why?"  demanded  her  father. 

"Because "  said  Miss  Hugonin;  and  after 


16  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

giving  this  really  excellent  reason,  reflected  for  a 
moment  and  strengthened  it  by  adding,  "Be 
cause— 

"See  here/'  her  father  questioned,  "what  did 
you  two  quarrel  about,  anyway  ? " 

"I — I  really  don't  remember,"  said  she,  re 
flectively  ;  then  continued,  with  hauteur  and  some 
inconsistency,  "  I  am  not  aware  that  Mr.  Woods 
and  I  have  ever  quarrelled." 

"  By  gad,  then,"  said  the  Colonel,  "you  may  as 
well  prepare  to,  for  I  intend  to  marry  you  to  Billy 
some  day.  Dear,  dear,  child,"  he  interpolated, 
with  malice  aforethought,  "have  you  a  fever? — 
your  cheek's  like  a  coal.  Billy's  a  man,  I  tell 
you — worth  a  dozen  of  your  Kennastons  and 
Charterises.  I  like  Billy.  And  besides,  it's  only 
right  he  should  have  Selwoode — wasn't  he  brought 
up  to  expect  it?  It  ain't  right  he  should  lose  it 
simply  because  he  had  a  quarrel  with  Frederick, 
for,  by  gad — not  to  speak  unkindly  of  the  dead, 
my  dear — Frederick  quarrelled  with  every  one 
he  ever  knew,  from  the  woman  who  nursed  him 
to  the  doctor  who  gave  him  his  last  pill.  He  may 
have  gotten  his  genius  for  money-making  from 
Heaven,  but  he  certainly  got  his  temper  from  the 
devil.  I  really  believe,"  said  the  Colonel,  re 
flectively,  "it  was  worse  than  mine.  Yes,  not 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  17 

a  doubt  of  it — I'm  a  lamb  in  comparison.  But 
he  had  his  way,  after  all;  and  even  now  poor 
Billy  can't  get  Selwoode  without  taking  you  with 
it,"  and  he  caught  his  daughter's  face  between 
his  hands  and  turned  it  toward  his  for  a  moment. 
"I  wonder  now,"  said  he,  in  meditative  wise,  "if 
Billy  will  consider  that  a  drawback  ? ' ' 

It  seemed  very  improbable.  Any  number  of 
marriageable  males  would  have  sworn  it  was 
unthinkable. 

However,  "Of  course,"  Margaret  began,  in  a 
crisp  voice,  "if  you  advise  Mr.  Woods  to  marry 
me  as  a  good  speculation " 

But  her  father  caught  her  up,  with  a  whistle. 
"  Eh?"  said  he.  "  Love  in  a  cottage? — is  it  thus 
the  poet  turns  his  lay  ?  That's  damn'  nonsense  ! 
I  tell  you,  even  in  a  cottage  the  plumber's  bill 
has  to  be  paid,  and  the  grocer's  little  account 
settled  every  month.  Yes,  by  gad,  and  even  if 
you  elect  to  live  on  bread  and  cheese  and  kisses, 
you'll  find  Camembert  a  bit  more  to  your  taste 
than  Sweitzer." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  marry  anybody,  you 
ridiculous  old  dear,"  said  Margaret. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  the  old  gentleman; 
"  don't.  Be  an  old  maid,  and  lecture  before  the 
Mothers'  Club,  if  you  like.  I  don't  care.  Any- 


1 8  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

how,  you  meet  Billy  to-day  at  twelve-forty-five. 
You  will? — that's  a  good  child.  Now  run  along 
and  tell  the  menagerie  I'll  be  downstairs  as  soon 
as  I've  finished  dressing." 

And  the  Colonel  rang  for  his  man  and  proceeded 
to  finish  his  toilet.  He  seemed  a  thought  absent- 
minded  this  morning. 

"I  say,  Wilkins,"  he  questioned,  after  a  little. 
"Ever  read  any  of  Ouida's  books?" 

"Ho,  yes,  sir,"  said  Wilkins;  "Miss  'Enderson 
— Mrs.  'Aggage's  maid,  that  his,  sir — was  reading 
haloud  hout  hof  'Hunder  Two  Flags'  honly  last 
hevening,  sir." 

"  H'm — Wilkins — if  you  can  run  across  one  of 
them  in  the  servants'  quarters — you  might  leave 
it — by  my  bed — to-night." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And — h'm,  Wilkins — you  can  put  it  under 
that  book  of  Herbert  Spencer's  my  daughter  gave 
me  yesterday.  Under  it,  Wilkins — and,  h'm, 
Wilkins — you  needn't  mention  it  to  anybody. 
Ouida  ain't  cultured,  Wilkins,  but  she's  damn' 
good  reading.  I  suppose  that's  why  she  ain't 
cultured,  Wilkins." 


Ill 


AND  now  let  us  go  back  a  little.  In  a  word,  let 
us  utilise  the  next  twenty  minutes — during  which 
Miss  Hugonin  drives  to  the  neighbouring  railway 
station,  in,  if  you  press  me,  not  the  most  pleasant 
state  of  mind  conceivable — by  explaining  a 
thought  more  fully  the  posture  of  affairs  at  Sel- 
woode  on  the  May  morning  that  starts  our  story. 

And  to  do  this  I  must  commence  with  the 
nature  of  the  man  who  founded  Selwoode. 

It  was  when  the  nineteenth  century  was  still  a 
hearty  octogenarian  that  Frederick  R.  Woods 
caused  Selwoode  to  be  builded.  I  give  you  the 
name  by  which  he  was  known  on  "the  Street." 
A  mythology  has  grown  about  the  name  since, 
and  strange  legends  of  its  owner  are  still  narrated 
where  brokers  congregate.  But  with  the  lambs 
he  sheared,  and  the  bulls  he  dragged  to  earth, 
and  the  bears  he  gored  to  financial  death,  we  have 
nothing  to  do ;  suffice  it,  that  he  performed  these 
operations  with  almost  uniform  success  and  in  an 
unimpeachably  respectable  manner. 

19 


20  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

And  if,  in  his  time,  he  added  materially  to  the 
lists  of  inmates  in  various  asylums  and  alms- 
houses,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he  bore 
his  victims  no  malice,  and  that  on  every  Sunday 
morning  he  confessed  himself  to  be  a  miserable 
sinner,  in  a  voice  that  was  perfectly  audible  three 
pews  off.  At  bottom,  I  think  he  considered  his 
relations  with  Heaven  on  a  purely  business  basis ; 
he  kept  a  species  of  running  account  with  Provi 
dence;  and  if  on  occasions  he  overdrew  it  some 
what,  he  saw  no  incongruity  in  evening  matters 
with  a  cheque  for  the  church  fund. 

So  that  at  his  death  it  was  said  of  him  that  he 
had,  in  his  day,  sent  more  men  into  bankruptcy 
and  more  missionaries  into  Africa  than  any  other 
man  in  the  country. 

In  his  sixty-fifth  year,  he  caught  Alfred  Van 
Orden  short  in  Lard,  erected  a  memorial  window 
to  his  wife  and  became  a  country  gentleman.  He 
never  set  foot  in  Wall  Street  again.  He  builded 
Selwoode — a  handsome  Tudor  manor  which  stands 
some  seven  miles  from  the  village  of  Fairhaven — 
where  he  dwelt  in  state,  by  turns  affable  and 
domineering  to  the  neighbouring  farmers,  and 
evincing  a  grave  interest  in  the  condition  of  their 
crops.  He  no  longer  turned  to  the  financial 
reports  in  the  papers;  and  the  pedigree  of  the 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  21 

Woodses  hung  in  the  living-hall  for  all  men  to 
see,  beginning  gloriously  with  Woden,  the  Scandi 
navian  god,  and  attaining  a  respectable  culmina 
tion  in  the  names  of  Frederick  R.  Woods  and  of 
William,  his  brother. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  omitted  to 
supply  himself  with  a  coat-of-arms.  Frederick 
R.  Woods  evinced  an  almost  childlike  pride  in 
his  heraldic  blazonings. 

"The  Woods  arms,"  he  would  inform  you, 
with  a  relishing  gusto,  "are  vert,  an  eagle  dis 
played,  barry  argent  and  gules.  And  the  crest 
is  out  of  a  ducal  coronet,  or,  a  demi-eagle  proper. 
We  have  no  motto,  sir — none  of  your  ancient 
coats  have  mottoes." 

The  Woods  Eagle  he  gloried  in.  The  bird  was 
perched  in  every  available  nook  at  Selwoode;  it 
was  carved  in  the  woodwork,  was  set  in  the 
mosaics,  was  chased  in  the  tableware,  was  woven 
in  the  napery,  was  glazed  in  the  very  china. 
Turn  where  you  would,  an  eagle  or  two  confronted 
you ;  and  Hunston  Wyke,  who  is  accounted  some 
thing  of  a  wit,  swore  that  Frederick  R.  Woods 
at  Selwoode  reminded  him  of  "  a  sore-headed  bear 
who  had  taken  up  permanent  quarters  in  an 
aviary." 

There  was  one,  however,  who  found  the  bear 


22  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

no  very  untractable  monster.  This  was  the  son 
of  his  brother,  dead  now,  who  dwelt  at  Selwoode 
as  heir  presumptive.  Frederick  R.  Woods's 
wife  had  died  long  ago,  leaving  him  childless. 
His  brother's  boy  was  an  orphan;  and  so,  for  a 
time,  he"  and  the  grim  old  man  lived  together 
peaceably  enough.  Indeed,  Billy  Woods  was 
in  those  days  as  fine  a  lad  as  you  would  wish  to 
see,  with  the  eyes  of  an  inquisitive  cherub  and  a 
big  tow-head,  which  Frederick  R.  Woods  fell  into 
the  habit  of  cuffing  heartily,  in  order  to  conceal 
the  fact  that  he  would  have  burned  Selwoode  to 
the  ground  rather  than  allow  any  one  else  to 
injure  a  hair  of  it. 

In  the  consummation  of  time,  Billy,  having 
attained  the  ripe  age  of  eighteen,  announced  to 
his  uncle  that  he  intended  to  become  a  famous 
painter.  Frederick  R.  Woods  exhorted  him  not 
to  be  a  fool,  and  packed  him  off  to  college. 

Billy  Woods  returned  on  his  first  vacation 
with  a  fragmentary  mustache  and  any  quantity 
of  paint-tubes,  canvases,  palettes,  mahl-sticks, 
and  such-like  paraphernalia.  Frederick  R.  Woods 
passed  over  the  mustache,  and  had  the  painters' 
trappings  burned  by  the  second  footman.  Billy 
promptly  purchased  another  lot.  His  uncle 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  23 

came  upon  them  one  morning,  rubbed  his  chin 
meditatively  for  a  moment,  and  laughed  for  the 
first  time,  so  far  as  known,  in  his  lifetime;  then 
he  tiptoed  to  his  own  apartments,  lest  Billy — the 
lazy  young  rascal  was  still  abed  in  the  next  room 
— should  awaken  and  discover  his  knowledge  of 
this  act  of  flat  rebellion. 

I  dare  say  the  old  gentleman  was  so  completely 
accustomed  to  having  his  own  way  that  this 
unlooked-for  opposition  tickled  him  by  its  novelty ; 
or  perhaps  he  recognised  in  Billy  an  obstinacy 
akin  to  his  own ;  or  perhaps  it  was  merely  that  he 
loved  the  boy.  In  any  event,  he  never  again 
alluded  to  the  subject;  and  it  is  a  fact  that  when 
Billy  sent  for  carpenters  to  convert  an  upper 
room  into  an  atelier,  Frederick  R.  Woods  spent 
two  long  and  dreary  weeks  in  Boston  in  order  to 
remain  in  ignorance  of  the  entire  affair. 

Billy  scrambled  through  college,  somehow,  in 
the  allotted  four  years.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
he  returned  to  find  new  inmates  installed  at 
Selwoode. 

For  the  wife  of  Frederick  R.  Woods  had  been 
before  her  marriage  one  of  the  beautiful  Ans- 
truther  sisters,  who,  as  certain  New  Yorkers  still 
remember — those  grizzled,  portly,  rosy-gilled  fel 
lows  who  prattle  on  provocation  of  Jenny  Lind 


24  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

and  Castle  Garden,  and  remember  everything — 
created  a  pronounced  furor  at  their  debut  in  the 
days  of  crinoline  and  the  Grecian  bend;  and 
Margaret  Anstruther,  as  they  will  tell  you,  was 
married  to  Thomas  Hugonin,  then  a  gallant 
cavalry  officer  in  the  service  of  Her  Majesty,  the 
Empress  of  India. 

And  she  must  have  been  the  nicer  of  the  two, 
because  everybody  who  knew  her  says  that 
Margaret  Hugonin  is  exactly  like  her. 

So  it  came  about  naturally  enough,  that  Billy 
Woods,  now  an  Artium  Baccalaureus,  if  you 
please,  and  not  a  little  proud  of  it,  found  the 
Colonel  and  his  daughter,  then  on  a  visit  to  this 
country,  installed  at  Selwoode  as  guests  and 
quasi-relatives.  And  Billy  was  twenty-two,  and 
Margaret  was  nineteen. 

Precisely  what  happened  I  am  unable  to  tell 
you.  Billy  Woods  claims  it  is  none  of  my  business ; 
and  Margaret  says  that  it  was  a  long,  long  time 
ago  and  she  really  can't  remember. 

But  I  fancy  we  can  all  form  a  very  fair  notion 
of  what  is  most  likely  to  occur  when  two  sensible, 
normal,  healthy  young  people  are  thrown  together 
in  this  intimate  fashion  at  a  country-house  where 
the  remaining  company  consists  of  two  elderly 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  25 

gentlemen.  Billy  was  forced  to  be  polite  to  his 
uncle's  guest ;  and  Margaret  couldn't  well  be  dis 
courteous  to  her  host's  nephew,  could  she?  Of 
course  not :  so  it  befell  in  the  course  of  time  that 
Frederick  R.  Woods  and  the  Colonel — who  had 
quickly  become  a  great  favourite,  by  virtue  of 
his  implicit  faith  in  the  Eagle  and  in  Woden  and 
Sir  Percival  de  Wode  of  Hastings,  and  such-like 
flights  of  heraldic  fancy,  and  had  augmented  his 
popularity  by  his  really  brilliant  suggestion  of 
Wynkyn  de  Worde,  the  famous  sixteenth-century 
printer,  as  a  probable  collateral  relation  of  the 
family — it  came  to  pass,  I  say,  that  the  two 
gentlemen  nodded  over  their  port  and  chuckled, 
and  winked  at  one  another  and  agreed  that  the 
thing  would  do. 

This  was  all  very  well ;  but  they  failed  to  make 
allowances  for  the  inevitable  quarrel  and  the 
subsequent  spectacle  of  the  gentleman  contem 
plating  suicide  and  the  lady  looking  wistfully 
toward  a  nunnery.  In  this  case  it  arose,  I 
believe,  over  Teddy  Anstruther,  who  for  a  cousin 
was  undeniably  very  attentive  to  Margaret;  and 
in  the  natural  course  of  events  they  would  have 
made  it  up  before  the  week  was  out  had  not 
Frederick  R.  Woods  selected  this  very  moment 
to  interfere  in  the  matter. 


26  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Ah,  si  vieillesse  savait ! 

The  blundering  old  man  summoned  Billy  into 
his  study  and  ordered  him  to  marry  Margaret 
Hugonin,  precisely  as  the  Colonel  might  have 
ordered  a  private  to  go  on  sentry-duty.  Ten 
days  earlier  Billy  would  have  jumped  at  the 
chance;  ten  days  later  he  would  probably  have 
suggested  it  himself;  but  at  that  exact  moment 
he  would  have  as  willingly  contemplated  matri 
mony  with  Alecto  or  Medusa  or  any  of  the 
Furies.  Accordingly,  he  declined.  Frederick  R. 
Woods  flew  into  a  pyrotechnical  display  of  temper, 
and  gave  him  his  choice  between  obeying  his 
commands  and  leaving  his  house  forever — the 
choice,  in  fact,  which  he  had  been  according  Billy 
at  very  brief  intervals  ever  since  the  boy  had  had 
the  measles,  fifteen  years  before,  and  had  refused 
to  take  the  proper  medicines. 

It  was  merely  his  usual  manner  of  expressing 
a  request  or  a  suggestion.  But  this  time,  to  his 
utter  horror  and  amaze,  the  boy  took  him  at  his 
word  and  left  Selwoode  within  the  hour. 

Billy's  life,  you  see,  was  irrevocably  blighted. 
It  mattered  very  little  what  became  of  him; 
personally,  he  didn't  care  in  the  least.  But  as 
for  that  fair,  false,  fickle  woman — perish  the 
thought !  Sooner  a  thousand  deaths !  No,  he 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  27 

would  go  to  Paris  and  become  a  painter  of  world 
wide  reputation;  the  money  his  father  had  left 
him  would  easily  suffice  for  his  simple  wants. 
And  some  day,  the  observed  of  all  observers  in 
some  bright  hall  of  gaiety,  he  would  pass  her 
coldly  by,  with  a  cynical  smile  upon  his  lips,  and 
she  would  grow  pale  and  totter  and  fall  into  the 
arms  of  the  bloated  Silenus,  for  whose  title  she 
had  bartered  her  purely  superficial  charms. 

Yes,  upon  mature  deliberation,  that  was  pre 
cisely  what  Billy  decided  to  do. 

Followed  dark  days  at  Selwoode.  Frederick 
R.  Woods  told  Margaret  of  what  had  occurred; 
and  he  added  the  information  that,  as  his  wife's 
nearest  relative,  he  intended  to  make  her  his 
heir. 

Then  Margaret  did  what  I  would  scarcely  have 
expected  of  Margaret.  She  turned  upon  him  like 
a  virago  and  informed  Frederick  R.  Woods  pre 
cisely  what  she  thought  of  him ;  she  acquainted 
him  with  the  fact  that  he  was  a  sordid,  low- 
minded,  grasping  beast,  and  a  miser,  and  a 
tyrant,  and  (I  think)  a  parricide ;  she  notified  him 
that  he  was  thoroughly  unworthy  to  wipe  the  dust 
off  his  nephew's  shoes — an  office  toward  which, 
to  do  him  justice,  he  had  never  shown  any 


28  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

marked  aspirations — and  that  Billy  had  acted 
throughout  in  a  most  noble  and  sensible  manner ; 
and  that,  personally,  she  wouldn't  marry  Billy 
Woods  if  he  were  the  last  man  on  earth,  for  she 
had  always  despised  him;  and  she  added  the 
information  that  she  expected  to  die  shortly,  and 
she  hoped  they  would  both  be  sorry  then;  and 
subsequently  she  clapped  the  climax  by  throwing 
her  arms  about  his  neck  and  bursting  into  tears 
and  telling  him  he  was  the  dearest  old  man  in  the 
world  and  that  she  was  thoroughly  ashamed  of 
herself. 

So  they  kissed  and  made  it  up.  And  after  a 
little  the  Colonel  and  Margaret  went  away  from 
Selwoode,  and  Frederick  R.  Woods  was  left  alone 
to  nourish  his  anger  and  indignation,  if  he  could, 
and  to  hunger  for  his  boy,  whether  he  would  or 
not.  He  was  too  proud  to  seek  him  out ;  indeed, 
he  never  thought  of  that ;  and  so  he  waited  alone 
in  his  fine  house,  sick  at  heart,  impotent,  hoping 
against  hope  that  the  boy  would  come  back. 
The  boy  never  came. 

No,  the  boy  never  came,  because  he  was  what 
the  old  man  had  made  him — headstrong,  and 
wilful,  and  obstinate.  Billy  had  been  thoroughly 
spoiled.  The  old  man  had  nurtured  his  pride,  had 
applauded  it  as  a  mark  of  proper  spirit;  and  now 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  29 

it  was  this  same  pride  that  had  robbed  him  of 
the  one  thing  he  loved  in  all  the  world. 

So,  at  last,  the  weak  point  in  the  armour  of  this 
sturdy  old  Pharisee  was  found,  and  Fate  had 
pierced  it  gaily.  It  was  retribution,  if  you  will; 
and  I  think  that  none  of  his  victims  in  "the 
Street,"  none  of  the  countless  widows  and 
orphans  that  he  had  made,  suffered  more  bitterly 
than  he  in  those  last  days. 

It  was  almost  two  years  after  Billy's  departure 
from  Selwoode  that  his  body-servant,  coming  to 
rouse  Frederick  R.  Woods  one  June  morning, 
found  him  dead  in  his  rooms.  He  had  been 
ailing  for  some  time.  It  was  his  heart,  the  doctors 
said ;  and  I  think  that  it  was,  though  not  precisely 
in  the  sense  which  they  meant. 

The  man  found  him  seated  before  his  great 
carved  desk,  on  which  his  head  and  shoulders 
had  fallen  forward;  they  rested  on  a  sheet  of 
legal-cap  paper  half-covered  with  a  calculation 
in  his  crabbed  old  hand  as  to  the  value  of  certain 
properties — the  calculation  which  he  never  fin 
ished;  and  underneath  was  a  mass  of  miscel 
laneous  papers,  among  them  his  will,  dated  the 
day  after  Billy  left  Selwoode,  in  which  Frederick 
R.  Woods  bequeathed  his  millions  unconditionally 


3o  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

to  Margaret  Hugonin  when  she  should  come  of 
age. 

Her  twenty-first  birthday  had  fallen  in  the 
preceding  month.  So  Margaret  was  one  of  the 
richest  women  in  America;  and  you  may  depend 
upon  it,  that  if  many  men  had  loved  her  before, 
they  worshipped  her  now — or,  at  least,  said  they 
did,  and,  after  all,  their  protestations  were  the 
only  means  she  had  of  judging.  She  might  have 
been  a  countess — and  it  must  be  owned  that  the 
old  Colonel,  who  had  an  honest  Anglo-Saxon 
reverence  for  a  title,  saw  this  chance  lost  wistfully 
— and  she  might  have  married  any  number  of 
grammarless  gentlemen,  personally  unknown  to 
her,  whose  fervent  proposals  almost  every  mail 
brought  in;  and  besides  these,  there  were  many 
others,  more  orthodox  in  their  wooing,  some  of 
whom  were  genuinely  in  love  with  Margaret 
Hugonin,  and  some — I  grieve  to  admit  it — who 
were  genuinely  in  love  with  her  money:  and  she 
would  have  none  of  them. 

She  refused  them  all  with  the  utmost  civility, 
as  I  happen  to  know.  How  I  learned  it  is  no 
affair  of  yours. 

For  Miss  Hugonin  had  remarkably  keen  eyes, 
which    she    used    to  •  advantage.     In    the   worlo\ 
about  her  they  discovered  very  little  that    she 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  31 

could  admire.  She  was  none  the  happier  for  her 
wealth;  the  piled-up  millions  overshadowed  her 
personality ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  she  knew 
that  most  people  regarded  her  simply  as  the 
heiress  of  the  Woods  fortune — an  unavoidable 
encumbrance  attached  to  the  property,  which 
divers  thrifty-minded  gentlemen  were  willing  to 
put  up  with.  To  put  up  with ! — at  the  thought, 
her  pride  rose  in  a  hot  blush,  and,  it  must  be  con 
fessed,  she  sought  consolation  in  the  looking-glass. 

She  was  an  humble-minded  young  woman,  as 
the  sex  goes,  and  she  saw  no  great  reason  there 
why  a  man  should  go  mad  over  Margaret  Hugonin. 
This  decision,  I  grant  you,  was  preposterous,  for 
there  were  any  number  of  reasons.  Her  final 
conclusion,  however,  was  for  the  future  to  regard 
all  men  as  fortune-hunters  and  to  do  her  hair 
differently. 

She  carried  out  both  resolutions.  When  a 
gentleman  grew  pressing  in  his  attentions,  she 
more  than  suspected  his  motives;  and  when  she 
eventually  declined  him  it  was  done  with  perfect 
courtesy,  but  the  glow  of  her  eyes  was  at  such 
times  accentuated  to  a  marked  degree. 

Meanwhile,  the  Eagle  brooded  undisturbed  at 
'Selwoode.  Miss  Hugonin  would  allow  nothing 
to  be  altered. 


32  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"The  place  doesn't  belong  to  me,  attractive," 
she  would  tell  her  father.  "  I  belong  to  the 
place.  Yes,  I  do — I'm  exactly  like  a  little  cow 
thrown  in  with  a  little  farm  when  they  sell  it,  and 
all  my  little  suitors  think  so,  and  they  are  very 
willing  to  take  me  on  those  terms,  too.  But  they 
shan't,  attractive.  I  hate  every  single  solitary 
man  in  the  whole  wide  world  but  you,  beautiful, 
and  I  particularly  hate  that  horrid  old  Eagle; 
but  we'll  keep  him  because  he's  a  constant 
reminder  to  me  that  Solomon  or  Moses,  or  whoever 
it  was  that  said  all  men  were  liars,  was  a  person 
of  very  great  intelligence." 

So  that  I  think  we  may  fairly  say  the  money 
did  her  no  good. 

If  it  benefited  no  one  else,  it  was  not  Margaret's 
fault.  She  had  a  high  sense  of  her  responsibilities, 
and  therefore,  at  various  times,  endeavoured  to 
further  the  spread  of  philanthropy  and  literature 
and  theosophy  and  art  and  temperance  and 
education  and  other  laudable  causes.  Mr.  Ken- 
naston,  in  his  laughing  manner,  was  wont  to  jest 
at  her  varied  enterprises  and  term  her  Lady 
Bountiful;  but,  then,  Mr.  Kennaston  had  no  real 
conception  of  the  proper  uses  of  money.  In  fact, 
he  never  thought  of  money.  He  admitted  this 
to  Margaret  with  a  whimsical  sigh. 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  33 

Margaret  grew  very  fond  of  Mr.  Kennaston 
because  he  was  not  mercenary. 

Mr.  Kennaston  was  much  at  Selwoode.  Many 
people  came  there  now — masculine  women  and 
muscleless  men,  for  the  most  part.  They  had, 
every  one  of  them,  some  scheme  for  bettering  the 
universe;  and  if  among  them  Margaret  seemed 
somewhat  out  of  place — a  butterfly  among  earnest- 
minded  ants — her  heart  was  in  every  plan  they 
advocated,  and  they  found  her  purse-strings 
infinitely  elastic.  The  girl  was  pitiably  anxious 
to  be  of  some  use  in  the  world. 

So  at  Selwoode  they  gossiped  of  great  causes 
and  furthered  the  millenium.  And  above  them 
the  Eagle  brooded  in  silence. 

And  Billy?  All  this  time  Billy  was  junketing 
abroad,  where  every  year  he  painted  master 
pieces  for  the  Salon,  which — on  account  of  a 
nefarious  conspiracy  among  certain  artists, 
jealous  of  his  superior  merits — were  invariably 
refused. 

Now  Billy  is  back  again  in  America,  and  the 
Colonel  has  insisted  that  he  come  to  Selwoode, 
and  Margaret  is  waiting  for  him  in  the  dog-cart. 
The  glow  of  her  eyes  is  very,  very  bright.  Her 
father's  careless  words  this  morning,  coupled 


34  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

with  certain  speeches  of  Mr.  Kennaston's  last 
night,  have  given  her  food  for  reflection. 

"He  wouldn't  dare,"  says  Margaret,  to  no  one 
in  particular.  "Oh,  no,  he  wouldn't  dare  after 
what  happened  four  years  ago." 

And,  Margaret-like,  she  has  quite  forgotten 
that  what  happened  four  years  ago  was  all 
caused  by  her  having  flirted  outrageously  with 
Teddy  Anstruther,  in  order  to  see  what  Billy 
would  do. 


IV 


THE  twelve  forty-five,  for  a  wonder,  was  on 
time;  and  there  descended  from  it  a  big,  blond 
young  man,  who  did  not  look  in  the  least  like  a 
fortune-hunter. 

Miss  Hugonin  resented  this.  Manifestly,  he 
looked  clean  and  honest  for  the  deliberate  purpose 
of  deceiving  her.  Very  well !  She'd  show  him  ! 

He  was  quite  unembarrassed.  He  shook  hands 
cordially;  then  he  shook  hands  with  the  groom, 
who,  you  may  believe  it,  was  grinning  in  a  most 
unprofessional  manner  because  Master  Billy  was 
back  again  at  Selwoode.  Subsequently,  in  his 
old  decisive  way,  he  announced  they  would  walk 
to  the  house,  as  his  legs  needed  stretching. 

The  insolence  of  it ! — quite  as  if  he  had  some 
thing  to  say  to  Margaret  in  private  and  couldn't 
wait  a  minute.  Beyond  doubt,  this  was  a  young 
man  who  must  be  taken  down  a  peg  or  two,  and 
that  at  once.  Of  course,  she  wasn't  going  to 
walk  back  with  him  ! — a  pretty  figure  they'd  cut 
strolling  through  the  fields,  like  a  house-girl  and 
the  milkman  on  a  Sunday  afternoon !  She  would 

35 


36  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

simply  say  she  was  too  tired  to  walk,  and  that 
would  end  the  matter. 

So  she  said  she  thought  the  exercise  would  do 
them  both  good. 

They  came  presently  with  desultory  chat  to  a 
meadow  bravely  decked  in  all  the  gauds  of  Spring. 
About  them  the  day  was  clear,  the  air  bland. 
Spring  had  revamped  her  ageless  fripperies  of 
tender  leaves  and  bird-cries  and  sweet,  warm 
odours  for  the  adornment  of  this  meadow ;  above 
it  she  had  set  a  turkis  sky  splashed  here  and  there 
with  little  clouds  that  were  like  whipped  cream; 
and  upon  it  she  had  scattered  largesse,  a  Danae's 
shower  of  buttercups.  Altogether,  she  had  made 
of  it  a  particularly  dangerous  meadow  for  a  man 
and  a  maid  to  frequent. 

Yet  there  Mr.  Woods  paused  under  a  burgeoning 
maple — paused  resolutely,  with  the  lures  of 
Spring  thick  about  him,  compassed  with  every 
snare  of  scent  and  sound  and  colour  that  the 
witch  is  mistress  of. 

Margaret  hoped  he  had  a  pleasant  passage  over. 
Her  father,  thank  you,  was  in  the  pink  of  con 
dition.  Oh,  yes,  she  was  quite  well.  She  hoped 
Mr.  Woods  would  not  find  America 

"Well,  Peggy,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  "then,  we'll 
have  it  out  right  here." 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  37 

His  insolence  was  so  surprising  that — in  order 
to  recover  herself — Margaret  actually  sat  down 
under  the  maple-tree.  Peggy,  indeed !  Why, 
she  hadn't  been  called  Peggy  for — no,  not  for 
four  whole  years ! 

"  Because  I  intend  to  be  friends,  you  know," 
said  Mr.  Woods. 

And  about  them  the  maple-leaves  made  a  little 
island  of  sombre  green,  around  which  more  vivid 
grasses  rippled  and  dimpled  under  the  fitful 
spring  breezes.  And  everywhere  leaves  lisped 
to  one  another,  and  birds  shrilled  insistently. 
It  was  a  perilous  locality. 

I  fancy  Billy  Woods  was  out  of  his  head  when 
he  suggested  being  friends  in  such  a  place. 
Friends,  indeed ! — you  would  have  thought  from 
the  airy  confidence  with  which  he  spoke  that 
Margaret  had  come  safely  to  forty  year  and  wore 
steel-rimmed  spectacles ! 

But  Miss  Hugonin  merely  cast  down  her  eyes 
and  was  aware  of  no  reason  why  they  shouldn't 
be.  She  was  sure  he  must  be  hungry,  and  she 
thought  luncheon  must  be  ready  by  now. 

In  his  soul,  Mr.  Woods  observed  that  her 
lashes  were  long — long  beyond  all  reason.  Lack 
ing  the  numbers  that  Petrarch  flowed  in,  he  did 
not  venture,  even  to  himself,  to  characterise  them 


38  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

further.  But  oh,  how  queer  it  was  they  should 
be  pure  gold  at  the  roots  ! — she  must  have  dipped 
them  in  the  ink-pot.  And  oh,  the  strong,  sudden, 
bewildering  curve  of  'em !  He  could  not  recall 
at  the  present  moment  ever  noticing  quite  such 
lashes  anywhere  else.  No,  it  was  highly  im 
probable  that  there  were  such  lashes  anywhere 
else.  Perhaps  a  few  of  the  superior  angels  might 
have  such  lashes.  He  resolved  for  the  future  to 
attend  church  more  regularly. 

Aloud,  Mr.  Woods  observed  that  in  that  case 
they  had  better  shake  hands. 

It  would  have  been  ridiculous  to  contest  the 
point.  The  dignified  course  was  to  shake  hands, 
since  he  insisted  on  it,  and  then  to  return  at  once 
to  Selwoode. 

Margaret  Hugonin  had  a  pretty  hand,  and  Mr. 
Woods,  as  an  artist,  could  not  well  fail  to  admire 
it.  Still,  he  needn't  have  looked  at  it  as  though 
he  had  never  before  seen  anything  quite  like 
it;  he  needn't  have  neglected  to  return  it; 
and  when  Miss  Hugonin  reclaimed  it,  after  a 
decent  interval,  he  needn't  have  laughed  in 
a  manner  that  compelled  her  to  laugh,  too. 
These  things  were  unnecessary  and  annoying, 
as  they  caused  Margaret  to  forget  that  she 
despised  him. 


Then,  for  no  apparent  reason,  Margaret  flushed,  and 
Billy        .       .       .        thought  it  vastly  becoming" 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  39 

For  the  time  being — will  you  believe  it? — she 
actually  thought  he  was  rather  nice. 

"  I  acted  like  an  ass,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  tragically. 
11  Oh,  yes,  I  did,  you  know.  But  if  you'll  forgive 
me  for  having  been  an  ass  I'll  forgive  you  for 
throwing  me  over  for  Teddy  Anstruther,  and  at 
the  wedding  I'll  dance  through  any  number  of 
pairs  of  patent-leathers  you  choose  to  mention." 

So  that  was  the  way  he  looked  at  it.  Teddy 
Anstruther,  indeed !  Why,  Teddy  was  a  dark 
little  man  with  brown  eyes — just  the  sort  of  man 
she  most  objected  to.  How  could  any  one  ever 
possibly  fancy  a  brown-eyed  man?  Then,  for 
no  apparent  reason,  Margaret  flushed,  and  Billy, 
who  had  stretched  his  great  length  of  limb  on  the 
grass  beside  her,  noted  it  with  a  pair  of  the  bluest 
eyes  in  the  world  and  thought  it  vastly  becoming. 

"Billy,"  said  she,  impulsively — and  the  name 
having  slipped  out  once  by  accident,  it  would 
have  been  absurd  to  call  him  anything  else  after 
ward — "it  was  horrid  of  you  to  refuse  to  take 
any  of  that  money." 

"But  I  didn't  want  it,"  he  protested.  "Good 
Lord,  I'd  only  have  done  something  foolish  with 
it.  It  was  awfully  square  of  you,  Peggy,  to  offer 
to  divide,  but  I  didn't  want  it,  you  see.  I  don't 
want  to  be  a  millionaire,  and  give  up  the  rest  of 


40  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

my  life  to  founding  libraries  and  explaining  to 
people  that  if  they  never  spend  any  money  on 
amusements  they'll  have  a  great  deal  by  the 
time  they're  too  old  to  enjoy  it.  I'd  rather 
paint  pictures." 

So  that  I  think  Margaret  must  have  en 
deavoured  at  some  time  to  make  him  accept  part 
of  Frederick  R.  Woods's  money. 

"You  make  me  feel — and  look — like  a  thief," 
she  reproved  him. 

Then  Billy  laughed  a  little.  "  You  don't  look 
in  the  least  like  one,"  he  reassured  her.  "You 
look  like  an  uncommonly  honest,  straightforward 
young  woman,"  Mr.  Woods  added,  handsomely, 
"and  I  don't  believe  you'd  purloin  under  the 
severest  temptation." 

She  thanked  him  for  his  testimonial,  with  all 
three  dimples  in  evidence. 

This  was  unsettling.     He  hedged. 

"Except,  perhaps "  said  he. 

"Yes?"  queried  Margaret,  after  a  pause. 

However,  she  questioned  him  with  her  head 
drooped  forward,  her  brows  raised;  and  as  this 
gave  him  the  full  effect  of  her  eyes,  Mr.  Woods 
became  quite  certain  that  there  was,  at  least,  one 
thing  she  might  be  expected  to  rob  him  of,  and 
wisely  declined  to  mention  it. 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  41 

Margaret  did  not  insist  on  knowing  what  it  was. 
Perhaps  she  heard  it  thumping  under  his  waist 
coat,  where  it  was  behaving  very  queerly. 

So  they  sat  in  silence  for  a  while.  Then  Margaret 
fell  a-humming  to  herself;  and  the  air — will  you 
believe  it  ? — chanced  by  the  purest  accident  to  be 
that  foolish,  senseless  old  song  they  used  to  sing 
together  four  years  ago. 

Billy  chuckled.  "Let's!"  he  obscurely 
pleaded. 

Spring  prompted  her. 

"Oh,  where  have  you  been,  Billy  boy?" 
queried  Margaret's  wonderful  contralto, 

"  Oh,  where  have  you  been,  Billy  boy,  Billy  boy  ? 
Oh,  where  have  you  been,  charming  Billy  ? " 

She  sang  it  in  a  low,  hushed  voice,  just  over 
her  breath.  Not  looking  at  him,  however.  And 
oh,  what  a  voice  !  thought  Billy  Woods.  A  voice 
that  was  honey  and  gold  and  velvet  and  all  that 
is  most  sweet  and  rich  and  soft  in  the  world ! 
Find  me  another  voice  like  that,  you  prime 
donne  !  Find  me  a  simile  for  it,  you  uninventive 
poets  !  Indeed,  I'd  like  to  see  you  do  it. 

But  he  chimed  in,  nevertheless,  with  his  pleasant 
throaty  baritone,  and  lilted  his  own  part  quite 
creditably. 


42  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"I've  been  to  seek  a  wife, 
She's  the  joy  of  my  life; 
She's  a  young  thing,  and  cannot  leave  her  mother" — 

only  Billy  sang  it  " father,"  just  as  they  used 
to  do. 

And  then  they  sang  it  through,  did  Margaret 
and  Billy — sang  of  the  dimple  in  her  chin  and  the 
ringlets  in  her  hair,  and  of  the  cherry  pies  she 
achieved  with  such  celerity — sang  as  they  sat  in 
the  spring-decked  meadow  every  word  of  that 
inane  old  song  that  is  so  utterly  senseless  and  so 
utterly  unforgettable. 

It  was  a  quite  idiotic  performance.  I  set  it 
down  to  the  snares  of  Spring — to  her  insidious, 
delightful  snares  of  scent  and  sound  and  colour 
that — for  the  moment,  at  least — had  trapped  these 
young  people  into  loving  life  infinitely. 

But  I  wonder  who  is  responsible  for  that  tatter 
of  rhyme  and  melody  that  had  come  to  them 
from  nowhere  in  particular?  Mr.  Woods,  as  he 
sat  up  at  the  conclusion  of  the  singing  vigorously 
to  applaud,  would  have  shared  his  last  possession, 
his  ultimate  crust,  with  that  unknown  benefactor 
of  mankind.  Indeed,  though,  the  heart  of  Mr. 
Woods  just  now  was  full  of  loving  kindness  and 
capable  of  any  freakish  magnanimity. 

For — will   it  be  believed? — Mr.    Woods,   who 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  43 

four  years  ago  had  thrown  over  a  fortune  and 
exiled  himself  from  his  native  land,  rather  than 
propose  marriage  to  Margaret  Hugonin,  had  no 
sooner  come  again  into  her  presence  and  looked 
once  into  her  perfectly  fathomless  eyes  than  he 
could  no  more  have  left  her  of  his  own  accord  than 
a  moth  can  turn  his  back  to  a  lighted  candle. 
He  had  fancied  himself  entirely  cured  of  that  boy- 
and-girl  nonsense ;  his  broken  heart,  after  the  first 
few  months,  had  not  interfered  in  the  least  with  a 
naturally  healthy  appetite ;  and,  behold,  here  was 
the  old  malady  raging  again  in  his  veins  and  with 
renewed  fervour. 

And  all  because  the  girl  had  a  pretty  face ! 
I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  in  the  con 
versation  I  have  recorded  Margaret  had  not  dis 
played  any  great  wisdom  or  learning  or  tenderness 
or  wit,  nor,  in  fine,  any  of  the  qualities  a  man 
might  naturally  look  for  in  a  helpmate.  Yet  at 
the  precise  moment  he  handed  his  baggage-check 
to  the  groom,  Mr.  Woods  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  marry  her.  In  an  instant  he  had  fallen  head 
over  ears  in  love ;  or  to  whittle  accuracy  to  a  point, 
he  had  discovered  that  he  had  never  fallen  out  of 
love ;  and  if  you  had  offered  him  an  empress  or 
fetched  Helen  of  Troy  from  the  grave  for  his 
delectation  he  would  have  laughed  you  to  scorn. 


44  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

In  his  defense,  I  can  only  plead  that  Margaret 
was  an  unusually  beautiful  woman.  It  is  all 
very  well  to  flourish  a  death's-head  at  the  feast, 
and  bid  my  lady  go  paint  herself  an  inch  thick, 
for  to  this  favour  she  must  come ;  and  it  is  quite 
true  that  the  reddest  lips  in  the  universe  may 
give  vent  to  slander  and  lies,  and  the  brightest 
eyes  be  set  in  the  dullest  head,  and  the  most 
roseate  of  complexions  be  purchased  at  the 
corner  drug-store ;  but,  say  what  you  will,  a  pretty 
woman  is  a  pretty  woman,  and  while  she  continue 
so  no  amount  of  common-sense  or  experience  will 
prevent  a  man,  on  provocation,  from  alluring, 
coaxing,  even  entreating  her  to  make  a  fool  of 
him.  We  like  it.  And  I  think  they  like  it,  too. 

So  Mr.  Woods  lost  his  heart  on  a  fine  spring 
morning  and  was  unreasonably  elated  over  the 
fact. 

And  Margaret  ?     Margaret  was  content. 


THEY  talked  for  a  matter  of  a  half-hour  in  the 
fashion  aforetime  recorded — not  very  wise  nor 
witty  talk,  if  you  will,  but  very  pleasant  to  make. 
There  were  many  pauses.  There  was  much 
laughter  over  nothing  in  particular.  There  were 
any  number  of  sentences  ambitiously  begun  that 
ended  nowhere.  Altogether,  it  was  just  the  sort 
of  talk  for  a  man  and  a  maid. 

Yet  some  twenty  minutes  later,  Mr.  Woods, 
preparing  for  luncheon  in  the  privacy  of  his 
chamber,  gave  a  sudden  exclamation.  Then  he 
sat  down  and  rumpled  his  hair  thoroughly. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  groaned;  "I'd  forgotten  all 
about  that  damned  money !  Oh,  you  ass  ! — you 
abject  ass  !  Why,  she's  one  of  the  richest  women 
in  America,  and  you're  only  a  fifth-rate  painter 
with  a  paltry  thousand  or  so  a  year !  You  marry 
her ! — why,  I  dare  say  she's  refused  a  hundred 
better  men  than  you  !  She'd  think  you  were  mad  ! 
Why,  she'd  think  you  were  after  her  money ! 
She — oh,  she'd  only  think  you  a  precious  cheeky 
ass,  she  would,  and  she'd  be  quite  right.  You 

45 


46  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

are  an  ass,  Billy  Woods !  You  ought  to  be 
locked  up  in  some  nice  quiet  stable,  where  your 
heehawing  wouldn't  disturb  people.  You  need  a 
keeper,  you  do!" 

He  sat  for  some  ten  minutes,  aghast.  After 
ward  he  rose  and  threw  back  his  shoulders  and 
drew  a  deep  breath. 

"No,  we  aren't  an  ass,"  he  addressed  his  re 
flection  in  the  mirror,  as  he  carefully  knotted  his 
tie.  "We're  only  a  poor  chuckle-headed  moth 
who's  been  looking  at  a  star  too  long.  It's  a 
bright  star,  Billy,  but  it  isn't  for  you.  So  we're 
going  to  be  sensible  now.  We're  going  to  get  a 
telegram  to-morrow  that  will  call  us  away  from 
Selwoode.  We  aren't  coming  back  any  more, 
either.  We're  simply  going  to  continue  painting 
fifth-rate  pictures,  and  hoping  that  some  day  she'll 
find  the  right  man  and  be  very,  very  happy." 

Nevertheless,  he  decided  that  a  blue  tie 
would  look  better,  and  was  very  particular  in 
arranging  it. 

At  the  same  moment  Margaret  stood  before  her 
mirror  and  tidied  her  hair  for  luncheon  and 
assured  her  image  in  the  glass  that  she  was  a  weak- 
minded  fool.  She  pointed  out  to  herself  the  un 
deniable  fact  that  Billy,  having  formerly  refused 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  47 

to  marry  her — oh,  ignominy  ! — seemed  pleasant- 
spoken  enough,  now  that  she  had  become  an 
heiress.  His  refusal  to  accept  part  of  her  fortune 
was  a  very  flimsy  device;  it  simply  meant  he 
hoped  to  get  all  of  it.  Oh,  he  did,  did  he ! 

Margaret  powdered  her  nose  viciously. 

She  saw  through  him !  His  honest  bearing 
she  very  plainly  perceived  to  be  the  result  of 
consummate  hypocrisy.  In  his  laughter  her  keen 
ear  detected  a  hollow  ring;  and  his  courteous 
manner  she  found,  at  bottom,  mere  servility. 
And  finally  she  demonstrated — to  her  own  satis 
faction,  at  least — that  his  charm  of  manner  was 
of  exactly  the  same  sort  that  had  been  possessed 
by  many  other  eminently  distinguished  criminals. 

How  did  she  do  this?  My  dear  sir,  you  had 
best  inquire  of  your  mother  or  your  sister  or  your 
wife,  or  any  other  lady  that  your  fancy  dictates. 
They  know.  I  am  sure  I  don't. 

And  after  it  all 

"Oh,  dear,  dear!"  said  Margaret;  "I  do  wish 
he  didn't  have  such  nice  eyes  !" 


VI 


ON  the  way  to  luncheon  Mr.  Woods  came  upon 
Adele  Haggage  and  Hugh  Van  Orden,  both  of 
whom  he  knew,  very  much  engrossed  in  one 
another,  in  a  nook  under  the  stairway.  To  Billy 
it  seemed  just  now  quite  proper  that  every  one 
should  be  in  love ;  wasn't  it — after  all — the  most 
pleasant  condition  in  the  world?  So  he  greeted 
them  with  a  semi-paternal  smile  that  caused 
Adele  to  flush  a  little. 

For  she  was — let  us  say,  interested — in  Mr. 
Van  Orden.  That  was  tolerably  well  known. 
In  fact,  Margaret — prompted  by  Mrs.  Haggage, 
it  must  be  confessed — had  invited  him  to 
Selwoode  for  the  especial  purpose  of  enter 
taining  Miss  Adele  Haggage;  for  he  was  a 
good  match,  and  Mrs.  Haggage,  as  an  experi 
enced  chaperon,  knew  the  value  of  country 
houses.  Very  unexpectedly,  however,  the  boy 
had  developed  a  disconcerting  tendency  to 
fall  in  love  with  Margaret,  who  snubbed  him 
promptly  and  unmercifully.  He  had  accordingly 
fallen  back  on  Adele,  and  Mrs.  Haggage  had 

48 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  49 

regained  both  her  trust  in  Providence  and  her 
temper. 

In  the  breakfast-room,  where  luncheon  was 
laid  out,  the  Colonel  greeted  Mr.  Woods  with  the 
enthusiasm  a  sailor  shipwrecked  on  a  desert  island 
might  conceivably  display  toward  the  boat-crew 
come  to  rescue  him.  The  Colonel  liked  Billy ;  and 
furthermore,  the  poor  Colonel's  position  at  Sel- 
woode  just  now  was  not  utterly  unlike  that  of  the 
suppositious  mariner;  were  I  minded  to  venture 
into  metaphor,  I  should  picture  him  as  clinging 
desperately  to  the  rock  of  an  old  fogeyism  and 
surrounded  by  weltering  seas  of  advanced  thought. 
Colonel  Hugonin  himself  was  not  advanced  in 
his  ideas.  Also,  he  had  forceful  opinions  as  to 
the  ultimate  destination  of  those  who  were. 

Then  Billy  was  presented  to  the  men  of  the 
party — Mr.  Felix  Kennaston  and  Mr.  Petheridge 
Jukesbury.  Mrs.  Haggage  he  knew  slightly; 
and  Kathleen  Saumarez  he  had  known  very  well 
indeed,  some  six  years  previously,  before  she  had 
ever  heard  of  Miguel  Saumarez,  and  when  Billy 
was  still  an  undergraduate.  She  was  a  widow 
now,  and  not  well-to-do;  and  Mr.  Woods's  first 
thought  on  seeing  her  was  that  a  man  was  a  fool 
to  write  verses,  and  that  she  looked  like  just  the 
sort  of  woman  to  preserve  them. 


50  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

His  second  was  that  he  had  verged  on  im 
becility  when  he  fancied  he  admired  that  slender, 
dark-haired  type.  A  woman's  hair  ought  to  be 
an  enormous  coronal  of  sunlight ;  a  woman  ought 
to  have  very  large,  candid  eyes  of  a  colour  between 
that  of  sapphires  and  that  of  the  spring  heavens, 
only  infinitely  more  beautiful  than  either ;  and  all 
petticoated  persons  differing  from  this  description 
were  manifestly  quite  unworthy  of  any  serious 
consideration. 

So  his  eyes  turned  to  Margaret,  who  had  no  eyes 
for  him.  She  had  forgotten  his  existence,  with 
an  utterness  that  verged  on  ostentation ;  and  if  it 
had  been  any  one  else  Billy  would  have  surmised 
she  was  in  a  temper.  But  that  angel  in  a  temper ! 
— nonsense !  And,  oh,  what  eyes  she  had !  and 
what  lashes !  and  what  hair ! — and  altogether, 
how  adorable  she  was,  and  what  a  wonder  the 
admiring  gods  hadn't  snatched  her  up  to  Olympus 
long  ago ! 

Thus  far  Mr.  Woods. 

But  if  Miss  Hugonin  was  somewhat  taciturn, 
her  counsellors  in  divers  schemes  for  benefiting 
the  universe  were  in  opulent  vein.  Billy  heard 
them  silently. 

"  I  have  spent  the  entire  morning  by  the  lake," 
Mr.  Kennaston  informed  the  party  at  large,  "in 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  51 

company  with  a  mocking-bird  who  was  practising 
a  new  aria.  It  was  a  wonderful  place;  the  trees 
were  lisping  verses  to  themselves,  and  the  sky 
overhead  was  like  a  robin's  egg  in  colour,  and  a 
faint  wind  was  making  tucks  and  ruches  and  pleats 
all  over  the  water,  quite  as  if  the  breezes  had  set 
up  in  business  as  mantua-makers.  I  fancy  they 
thought  they  were  working  on  a  great  sheet  of 
blue  silk,  for  it  was  very  like  that.  And  every 
once  in  a  while  a  fish  would  leap  and  leave  a 
splurge  of  bubble  and  foam  behind  that  you  would 
have  sworn  was  an  inserted  lace  medallion." 

Mr.  Kennaston,  as  you  are  doubtless  aware,  is 
the  author  of  "The  King's  Quest"  and  other 
volumes  of  verse.  He  is  a  full-bodied  young  man, 
with  hair  of  no  particular  shade ;  and  if  his  green 
eyes  are  a  little  aged,  his  manner  is  very  youthful. 
His  voice  in  speaking  is  wonderfully  pleasing,  and 
he  has  a  habit  of  cocking  his  head  on  one  side,  in 
a  bird-like  fashion. 

''Indeed,"  Mr.  Petheridge  Jukesbury  observed, 
"it  is  very  true  that  God  made  the  country  and 
man  made  the  town.  A  little  more  wine,  please. 

Mr.  Jukesbury  is  a  prominent  worker  in  the 
cause  of  philanthropy  and  temperance.  He  is 
ponderous  and  bland;  and  for  the  rest,  he  is 
president  of  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of 


52  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Nicotine  and  the  Nude,  vice-president  of  the 
Anti-Inebriation  League,  secretary  of  the  In 
corporated  Brotherhood  of  Benevolence,  and  the 
bearer  of  divers  similar  honours. 

"I  am  never  really  happy  in  the  country," 
Mrs.  Saumarez  dissented;  "it  reminds  me  so 
constantly  of  our  rural  drama.  I  am  always  afraid 
the  quartette  may  come  on  and  sing  something." 

Kathleen  Eppes  Saumarez,  as  I  hope  you  do 
not  need  to  be  told,  is  the  well-known  lecturer 
before  women's  clubs,  and  the  author  of  many 
sympathetic  stories  of  Nature  and  animal  life  of 
the  kind  that  have  had  such  a  vogue  of  late. 
There  was  always  an  indefinable  air  of  pathos 
about  her;  as  Hunston  Wyke  put  it,  one  felt, 
somehow,  that  her  mother  had  been  of  a  domineer 
ing  disposition,  and  that  she  took  after  her  father. 

"Ah,  dear  lady,"  Mr.  Kennaston  cried,  play 
fully,  "  you,  like  many  of  us,  have  become  an  alien 
to  Nature  in  your  quest  of  a  mere  Earthly  Para 
dox.  Epigrams  are  all  very  well,  but  I  fancy 
there  is  more  happiness  to  be  derived  from  a 
single  impulse  from  a  vernal  wood  than  from  a 
whole  problem-play  of  smart  sayings.  So  few 
of  us  are  natural,"  Mr.  Kennaston  complained, 
with  a  dulcet  sigh;  "we  are  too  sophisticated. 
Our  very  speech  lacks  the  tang  of  outdoor  life. 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  53 

Why  should  we  not  love  Nature — the  great 
mother,  who  is,  I  grant  you,  the  necessity  of 
various  useful  inventions,  in  her  angry  moods, 

but  who,  in  her  kindly  moments "  He 

paused,  with  a  wry  face.  "I  beg  your  pardon/* 
said  he,  "but  I  believe  I've  caught  rheumatism 
lying  by  that  confounded  pond." 

Mrs.  Saumarez  rallied  the  poet,  with  a  pale 
smile .  ' '  That  comes  of  communing  with  Nature, ' ' 
she  reminded  him;  "and  it  serves  you  rightly, 
for  natural  communications  corrupt  good  epi 
grams.  I  prefer  Nature  with  wide  margins  and 
uncut  leaves,"  she  spoke,  in  her  best  platform 
manner.  "Art  should  be  an  expurgated  edition 
of  Nature,  with  all  the  unpleasant  parts  left  out. 
And  I  am  sure,"  Mrs.  Saumarez  added,  hand 
somely,  and  clinching  her  argument,  "that  Mr. 
Kennaston  gives  us  much  better  sunsets  in  his 
poems  than  I  have  ever  seen  in  the  west."  , 

He  acknowledged  this  with  a  bow. 

"Not  sherry— claret,  if  you  please,"  said  Mr. 
Jukesbury.  "Art  should  be  an  expurgated  edi 
tion  of  Nature, "  he  repeated,  with  a  suave 
chuckle.  "  Do  you  know,  I  consider  that  admir 
ably  put,  Mrs.  Saumarez — admirably,  upon  my 
word.  Ah,  if  our  latter-day  writers  would  only 
take  that  saying  to  heart !  We  do  not  need  to 


54  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

be  told  of  the  vice  and  corruption  prevalent,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  among  the  very  best  people; 
what  we  really  need  is  continually  to  be  reminded 
of  the  fact  that  pure  hearts  and  homes  and 
happy  faces  are  to  be  found  to-day  alike  in  the 
palatial  residences  of  the  wealthy  and  in  the 
humbler  homes  of  those  less  abundantly  favoured 
by  Fortune,  and  yet  dwelling  together  in  harmony 
and  Christian  resignation  and — er — comparatively 
moderate  circumstances . ' ' 

"Surely,"  Mrs.  Saumarez  protested,  "art  has 
nothing  to  do  with  morality.  Art  is  a  process. 
You  see  a  thing  in  a  certain  way ;  you  make  your 
reader  see  it  in  the  same  way — or  try  to.  If 
you  succeed,  the  result  is  art.  If  you  fail,  it 
may  be  the  book  of  the  year." 

"Enduring  immortality  and — ah — the  patron 
age  of  the  reading  public,"  Mr.  Jukesbury  placidly 
insisted,  "will  be  awarded,  in  the  end,  only  to 
those  who  dwell  upon  the  true,  the  beautiful, 
and  the — er — respectable.  Art  must  cheer;  it 
must  be  optimistic  and  edifying  and — ah — 
suitable  for  young  persons;  it  must  have  an 
uplift,  a  leaven  of  righteousness,  a — er — a  sort  of 
moral  baking-powder.  It  must  utterly  eschew 
the — ah — unpleasant  and  repugnant  details  of 
life.  It  is,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  not  at 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  55 

home  in  the  menage  a  trois  or — er — the  repre 
sentation  of  the  nude.  Yes,  another  glass  of 
claret,  if  you  please." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Haggage, 
in  her  deep  voice.  Sarah  Ellen  Haggage  is,  of 
course,  the  well-known  author  of  ''Child-Labour 
in  the  South,"  and  "The  Down-Trodden  Afro- 
American,"  and  other  notable  contributions  to 
literature.  She  is,  also,  the  "  Madame  President" 
both  of  the  Society  for  the  Betterment  of  Civic 
Government  and  Sewerage,  and  of  the  Ladies' 
League  for  the  Edification  of  the  Impecunious. 

"And  I  am  glad  to  see,"  Mrs.  Haggage  pres 
ently  went  on,  "that  the  literature  of  the  day  is 
so  largely  beginning  to  chronicle  the  sayings  and 
doings  of  the  labouring  classes.  The  virtues  of 
the  humble  must  be  admitted  in  spite  of  their 
dissolute  and  unhygienic  tendencies.  Yes,"  Mrs. 
Haggage  added,  meditatively,  "our  literature  is 
undoubtedly  acquiring  a  more  elevated  tone;  at 
last  we  are  shaking  off  the  scintillant  and  un 
wholesome  influence  of  the  French." 

"Ah,  the  French!"  sighed  Mr.  Kennaston;  "a 
people  who  think  depravity  the  soul  of  wit ! 
Their  art  is  mere  artfulness.  They  care  nothing 
for  Nature." 

"No,"  Mrs.  Haggage  assented;   "they  prefer 


56  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

nastiness.  All  French  books  are  immoral.  I 
ran  across  one  the  other  day  that  was  simply 
hideously  indecent — unfit  for  a  modest  woman  to 
read.  And  I  can  assure  you  that  none  of  its 
author's  other  books  are  any  better.  I  purchased 
the  entire  set  at  once  and  read  them  carefully,  in 
order  to  make  sure  that  I  was  perfectly  justified 
in  warning  my  working-girls'  classes  against  them. 
I  wish  to  misjudge  no  man — not  even  a  member 
of  a  nation  notoriously  devoted  to  absinthe  and 
illicit  relations." 

She  breathed  heavily,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Woods 
as  if,  somehow,  he  was  responsible.  Then  she 
gave  the  name  of  the  book  to  Petheridge  Jukes- 
bury.  He  wished  to  have  it  placed  on  the  Index 
Expurgatorius  of  the  Brotherhood  of  Benevolence, 
he  said. 

"Dear,  dear,"  Felix  Kennaston  sighed,  as  Mr. 
Jukesbury  made  a  note  of  it;  "you  are  all  so 
practical.  You  perceive  an  evil  and  proceed  at 
once,  in  your  common-sense  way,  to  crush  it,  to 
stamp  it  out.  Now,  I  can  merely  lament  certain 
unfortunate  tendencies  of  the  age;  I  am  quite 
unable  to  contend  against  them.  Do  you  know," 
Mr.  Kenneston  continued  gaily,  as  he  trifled  with 
a  bunch  of  grapes,  "  I  feel  horribly  out-of- 
place  among  you?  Here  is  Mrs.  Saumarez 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  57 

creating  an  epidemic  of  useful  and  improving 
knowledge  throughout  the  country,  by  means  of 
her  charming  lectures.  Here  is  Mrs.  Haggage, 
the  mainspring,  if  I  may  say  so,  of  any  number 
of  educational  and  philanthropic  alarm  clocks 
which  will  some  day  rouse  the  sleeping  public 
from  its  lethargy.  And  here  is  my  friend  Jukes- 
bury,  whose  eloquent  pleas  for  a  higher  life  have 
turned  so  many  workmen  from  gin  and  improvi 
dence,  and  which  in  a  printed  form  are  dissemi 
nated  even  in  such  remote  regions  as  Africa, 
where  I  am  told  they  have  produced  the  most 
satisfactory  results  upon  the  unsophisticated  but 
polygamous  monarchs  of  that  continent.  And 
here,  above  all,  is  Miss  Hugonin,  utilising  the  vast 
power  of  money — which  I  am  credibly  informed 
is  a  very  good  thing  to  have,  though  I  cannot 
pretend  to  speak  from  experience — and  casting 
whole  bakeryfuls  of  bread  upon  the  waters  of  char 
ity.  And  here  am  I,  the  idle  singer  of  an  empty 
day — a  mere  drone  in  this  hive  of  philanthropic 
bees !  Dear,  dear, ' '  said  Mr.  Kennaston,  envi 
ously,  "  what  a  thing  it  is  to  be  practical ! "  And 
he  laughed  toward  Margaret,  in  his  whimsical  way. 
Miss  Hugonin  had  been  strangely  silent;  but 
she  returned  Mr.  Kennaston's  smile,  and  began 
to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 


58  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"You're  only  an  ignorant  child,"  she  rebuked 
him,  "and  a  very  naughty  child,  too,  to  make 
fun  of  us  in  this  fashion." 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Kennaston  assented,  "  I  am  wilfully 
ignorant.  The  world  adores  ignorance;  and 
where  ignorance  is  kissed  it  is  folly  to  be  wise. 
To-morrow  I  shall  read  you  a  chapter  from  my 
'Defense  of  Ignorance,'  which  my  confiding 
publisher  is  going  to  bring  out  in  the  autumn." 

So  the  table-talk  went  on,  and  now  Margaret 
bore  a  part  therein. 

However,  I  do  not  think  we  need  record  it 
further. 

Mr.  Woods  listened  in  a  sort  of  a  daze.  Adele 
Haggage  and  Hugh  Van  Orden  were  conversing 
in  low  tones  at  one  end  of  the  table ;  the  Colonel 
was  eating  his  luncheon,  silently  and  with  a 
certain  air  of  resignation;  and  so  Billy  Woods 
was  left  alone  to  attend  and  marvel. 

The  ideas  they  advanced  seemed  to  him,  for 
the  most  part,  sensible.  What  puzzled  him  was 
the  uniform  gravity  which  they  accorded  equally 
— as  it  appeared  to  him — to  the  discussion  of  the 
most  pompous  platitudes  and  of  the  most  arrant 
nonsense.  They  were  always  serious;  and  the 
general  tone  of  infallibility,  Billy  thought,  could 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  59 

be  warranted  only  by  a  vast  fund  of  inex 
perience. 

But,  in  the  main,  they  advocated  theories  he 
had  always  held — excellent  theories,  he  consid 
ered.  And  he  was  seized  with  an  unreasonable 
desire  to  repudiate  every  one  of  them. 

For  it  seemed  to  him  that  every  one  of  them 
was  aimed  at  Margaret's  approval.  It  did  not 
matter  to  whom  a  remark  was  ostensibly  addressed 
— always  at  its  conclusion  the  speaker  glanced 
more  or  less  openly  toward  Miss  Hugonin.  She 
was  the  audience  to  which  they  zealously  played, 
thought  Billy;  and  he  wondered. 

I  think  I  have  said  that,  owing  to  the  smallness 
of  the  house-party,  luncheon  was  served  in  the 
breakfast-room.  The  dining-room  at  Selwoode 
is  very  rarely  used,  because  Margaret  declares 
its  size  makes  a  meal  there  equivalent  to  eating 
out-of-doors. 

And  I  must  confess  that  the  breakfast-room  is 
far  cosier.  The  room,  in  the  first  place,  is  of 
reasonable  dimensions;  it  is  hung  with  Flemish 
tapestries  from  designs  by  Van  Eyck  representing 
the  Four  Seasons,  but  the  walls  and  ceiling  are 
panelled  in  oak,  and  over  the  mantel  carved  in 
bas-relief  the  inevitable  Eagle  is  displayed. 

The  mantel  stood  behind  Margaret's  chair;  and 


60  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

over  her  golden  head,  half-protectingly,  half- 
threateningly,  with  his  wings  outstretched  to  the 
uttermost,  the  Eagle  brooded  as  he  had  once 
brooded  over  Frederick  R.  Woods.  The  old  man 
sat  contentedly  beneath  that  symbol  of  what  he 
had  achieved  in  life.  He  had  started  (as  the 
phrase  runs)  from  nothing ;  he  had  made  himself  a 
power.  To  him,  the  Eagle  meant  that  crude, 
incalculable  power  of  wealth  he  gloried  in.  And 
to  Billy  Woods,  the  Eagle  meant  identically  the 
same  thing,  and — I  am  sorry  to  say — he  began  to 
suspect  that  the  Eagle  was  really  the  audience  to 
whom  Miss  Hugonin's  friends  so  zealously  played. 

Perhaps  the  misanthropy  of  Mr.  Woods  was  not 
wholly  unconnected  with  the  fact  that  Margaret 
never  looked  at  him.  She'd  show  him ! — the 
fortune-hunter ! 

So  her  eyes  never  strayed  toward  him ;  and  her 
attention  never  left  him.  At  the  end  of  luncheon 
she  could  have  enumerated  for  you  every  morsel 
he  had  eaten,  every  glare  he  had  directed  toward 
Kennaston,  every  beseeching  look  he  had  turned 
to  her.  Of  course,  he  had  taken  sherry — dry 
sherry.  Hadn't  he  told  her  four  years  ago — it 
was  the  first  day  she  had  ever  worn  the  white 
organdie  dotted  with  purple  sprigs,  and  they  sat 
by  the  lake  so  late  that  afternoon  that  Frederick 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  61 

R.  Woods  finally  sent  for  them  to  come  to  dinner 
— hadn't  he  told  her  then  that  only  women  and 
children  cared  for  sweet  wines?  Of  course  he 
had — the  villain  ! 

Billy,  too,  had  his  emotions.  To  hear  that 
paragon,  that  queen  among  women,  descant  of 
work  done  in  the  slums  and  of  the  mysteries  of 
sweat-shops ;  to  hear  her  state  off-hand  that  there 
were  seventeen  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
children  between  the  ages  of  ten  and  fifteen  years 
employed  in  the  mines  and  factories  of  the  United 
States;  to  hear  her  discourse  of  foreign  missions 
as  glibly  as  though  she  had  been  born  and  nurtured 
in  Zambesi  Land:  all  these  things  filled  him  with 
an  odd  sense  of  alienation.  He  wasn't  worthy  of 
her,  and  that  was  a  fact.  He  was  only  a  dumb 
idiot,  and  half  the  words  that  were  falling  thick 
and  fast  from  philanthropic  lips  about  him  might 
as  well  have  been  hailstones,  for  all  the  benefit 
he  was  deriving  from  them.  He  couldn't  under 
stand  half  she  said. 

In  consequence,  he  very  cordially  detested  the 
people  who  could — especially  that  grimacing  ass, 
Kennaston. 

Altogether,  neither  Mr.  Woods  nor  Miss  Hugonin 
got  much  comfort  from  their  luncheon. 


VII 


AFTER  luncheon  Billy  had  a  quiet  half -hour 
with  the  Colonel  in  the  smoking-room. 

Said  Billy,  between  puffs  of  a  cigar : 

"  Peggy's  changed  a  bit." 

The  Colonel  grunted.  Perhaps  he  dared  not 
trust  to  words. 

"Seems  to  have  made  some  new  friends." 

A  more  vigorous  grunt. 

"Cultured  lot,  they  seem?"  said  Mr.  Woods. 
"Anxious  to  do  good  in  the  world,  too — philan 
thropic  set,  eh?" 

A  snort  this  time. 

"Eh?"  said  Mr.  Woods.  There  was  dawning 
suspicion  in  his  tone. 

The  Colonel  looked  about  him.  "My  boy," 
said  he,  "you  thank  your  stars  you  didn't  get 
that  money;  and,  depend  upon  it,  there  never 
was  a  gold-ship  yet  that  wasn't  followed." 

"Pirates?"  Billy  Woods  suggested,  helpfully. 

"Pirates  are  human  beings,"  said  Colonel 
Hugonin,  with  dignity.  "Sharks,  my  boy; 
sharks!" 

62 


VIII 

THAT  evening,  after  proper  deliberation,  "  Celes- 
tine,"  Miss  Hugonin  commanded,  "get  out  that 
little  yellow  dress  with  the  little  red  bandanna 
handkerchiefs  on  it;  and  for  heaven's  sake,  stop 
pulling  my  hair  out  by  the  roots,  unless  you  want 
a  raving  maniac  on  your  hands,  Celestine  !" 

Whereby  she  had  landed  me  in  a  quandary. 
For  how,  pray,  is  it  possible  for  me,  a  simple- 
minded  male,  fittingly  to  depict  for  you  the 
clothes  of  Margaret? — the  innumerable  vanities, 
the  quaint  devices,  the  pleasing  conceits  with 
which  she  delighted  to  enhance  her  comeliness? 
The  thing  is  beyond  me.  Let  us  keep  discreetly 
out  of  her  wardrobe,  you  and  I. 

Otherwise,  I  should  have  to  prattle  of  an 
infinity  of  mysteries — of  her  scarfs,  feathers, 
laces,  gloves,  girdles,  knots,  hats,  shoes,  fans,  and 
slippers — of  her  embroideries,  rings,  pins,  pend 
ants,  ribbons,  spangles,  bracelets,  and  chains— 
in  fine,  there  would  be  no  end  to  the  list  of  gew 
gaws  that  went  to  make  Margaret  Hugonin  even 
more  adorable  than  Nature  had  fashioned  her. 

63 


64  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

For  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  it  takes  the 
craft  and  skill  and  life-work  of  a  thousand  men 
to  dress  one  girl  properly;  and  in  Margaret's  case, 
I  protest  that  every  one  of  them,  could  he  have 
beheld  the  result  of  their  united  labours,  would 
nave  so  gloried  in  his  own  part  therein  that 
there  would  have  been  no  putting  up  with  any 
of  the  lot. 

Yet  when  I  think  of  the  tiny  shoes  she  affected 
— patent-leather  ones  mostly,  with  a  seam  running 
straight  up  the  middle  (and  you  may  guess  the 
exact  date  of  our  comedy  by  knowing  in  what 
year  these  shoes  were  modish) ;  the  string  of  fat 
pearls  she  so  often  wore  about  her  round,  full 
throat;  the  white  frock,  say,  with  arabesques  of 
blue  all  over  it,  that  Felix  Kennaston  said  re 
minded  him  of  Ruskin's  tombstone ;  or  that  other 
white-and-blue  one — decollete,  that  was — which 
I  swear  seraphic  mantua-makers  had  woven  out 
of  mists  and  the  skies  of  June :  when  I  remember 
these  things',  I  repeat,  almost  am  I  tempted  to 
become  a  boot-maker  and  a  lapidary  and  a 
milliner  and,  in  fine,  an  adept  in  all  the 
other  arts  and  trades  and  sciences  that  go  to 
make  a  well-groomed  American  girl  what  she 
is — the  incredible  fruit  of  grafted  centuries, 
the  period  after  the  list  of  Time's  achieve- 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  65 

ments — just  that  I  might  describe  Margaret  to 
you  properly. 

But  the  thing  is  beyond  me.  I  leave  such  con 
siderations,  then,  to  Celestine,  and  resolve  for  the 
future  rigorously  to  eschew  all  such  gauds. 
Meanwhile,  if  an  untutored  masculine  description 
will  content  you 

Margaret,  I  have  on  reliable  feminine  authority, 
was  one  of  the  very  few  blondes  whose  complexions 
can  carry  off  reds  and  yellows.  This  particular 
gown — I  remember  it  perfectly — was  of  a  dim, 
dull  yellow — flounciful  (if  I  may  coin  a  word), 
diaphanous,  expansive.  I  have  not  the  least 
notion  what  fabric  composed  it;  but  scattered 
about  it,  in  unexpected  places,  were  diamond- 
shaped  red  things  that  I  am  credibly  informed 
are  called  medallions.  The  general  effect  of  it 
may  be  briefly  characterised  as  grateful  to  the 
eye  and  dangerous  to  the  heart,  and  to  a  rational 
train  of  thought  quite  fatal. 

For  it  was  cut  low  in  the  neck;  and  Margaret's 
neck  and  shoulders  would  have  drawn  madrigals 
from  a  bench  of  bishops. 

And  in  consequence,  Billy  Woods  ate  absolutely 
no  dinner  that  evening. 


IX 


IT  was  an  hour  or  two  later  when  the  moon, 
drifting  tardily  up  from  the  south,  found  Miss 
Hugonin  and  Mr.  Kennaston  chatting  amicably 
together  in  the  court  at  Selwoode.  They  were 
discussing  the  deplorable  tendencies  of  the  modern 
drama. 

The  court  at  Selwoode  lies  in  the  angle  of  the 
building,  the  ground  plan  of  which  is  L-shaped. 
Its  two  outer  sides  are  formed  by  covered  cloisters 
leading  to  the  palm-garden,  and  by  moonlight — 
the  night  bland  and  sweet  with  the  odour  of 
growing  things,  vocal  with  plashing  fountains, 
spangled  with  fire-flies  that  flicker  indolently 
among  a  glimmering  concourse  of  nymphs  and 
fauns  eternally  postured  in  flight  or  in  pursuit — 
by  moonlight,  I  say,  the  court  at  Selwoode  is 
perhaps  as  satisfactory  a  spot  for  a  tete-a-tete  as 
this  transitory  world  affords. 

Mr.  Kennaston  was  in  vein  to-night ;  he  scintil 
lated;  he  was  also  a  little  nervous.  This  was 
probably  owing  to  the  fact  that  Margaret,  leaning 
against  the  back  of  the  stone  bench  on  which  they 

66 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  67 

both  sat,  her  chin  propped  by  her  hand,  was 
gazing  at  him  in  that  peculiar,  intent  fashion  of 
hers  which — as  I  think  I  have  mentioned — 
caused  you  fatuously  to  believe  she  had  forgotten 
there  were  any  other  trousered  beings  extant. 

Mr.  Kennaston,  however,  stuck  to  apt  phrases 
and  nice  distinctions.  The  moon  found  it  edify 
ing,  but  rather  dull. 

After  a  little  Mr.  Kennaston  paused  in  his 
boyish,  ebullient  speech,  and  they  sat  in  silence. 
The  lisping  of  the  fountains  was  very  audible. 
In  the  heavens,  the  moon  climbed  a  little  further 
and  registered  a  manifestly  impossible  hour  on 
the  sun-dial.  It  also  brightened. 

It  was  a  companionable  sort  of  a  moon.  It 
invited  talk  of  a  confidential  nature. 

"Bless  my  soul,"  it  was  signalling  to  any 
number  of  gentlemen  at  that  moment,  "there's 
only  you  and  I  and  the  girl  here.  Speak  out, 
man !  She'll  have  you  now,  if  she  ever  will. 
You'll  never  have  a  chance  like  this  again,  I  can 
tell  you.  Come,  now,  my  dear  boy,  I'm  shining 
full  in  your  face,  and  you've  no  idea  how  becom 
ing  it  is.  I'm  not  like  that  garish,  blundering  sun, 
who  doesn't  know  any  better  than  to  let  her  see 
how  red  and  fidgetty  you  get  when  you're  ex 
cited;  I'm  an  old  hand  at  such  matters.  I've 


68  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

presided  over  these  little  affairs  since  Babylon 
was  a  paltry  village.  /'//  never  tell.  And — and 
if  anything  should  happen,  I'm  always  ready  to 
go  behind  a  cloud,  you  know.  So,  speak  out ! — 
speak  out,  man,  if  you've  the  heart  of  a  mouse !" 

Thus  far  the  conscienceless  spring  moon. 

Mr.  Kennaston  sighed.  The  moon  took  this 
as  a  promising  sign  and  brightened  over  it  per 
ceptibly,  and  thereby  afforded  him  an  excellent 
gambit. 

"Yes?"  said  Margaret.  "What  is  it,  beauti 
ful?" 

That,  in  privacy,  was  her  fantastic  name  for 
him. 

The  poet  laughed  a  little.  "Beautiful  child," 
said  he — and  that,  under  similar  circumstances, 
was  his  perfectly  reasonable  name  for  her — "  I 
have  been  discourteous.  To  be  frank,  I  have  been 
sulking  as  irrationally  as  a  baby  who  clamours 
for  the  moon  yonder." 

"You  aren't  really  anything  but  a  baby,  you 
know."  Indeed,  Margaret  almost  thought  of  him 
as  such.  He  was  so  delightfully  naif. 

He  bent  toward  her.  A  faint  tremor  woke  in 
his  speech.  "And  so,"  said  he,  softly,  "I  cry 
for  the  moon — the  unattainable,  exquisite  moon. 
It  is  very  ridiculous,  is  it  not?" 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  69 

But  he  did  not  look  at  the  moon.  He  looked 
toward  Margaret — past  Margaret,  toward  the 
gleaming  windows  of  Selwoode,  where  the  Eagle 
brooded. 

"Oh,  I  really  can't  say,"  Margaret  cried, 
in  haste.  "She  was  kind  to  Endymion,  you 
know.  We  will  hope  for  the  best.  I  think  we'd 
better  go  into  the  house  now." 

"  You  bid  me  hope  ? "  said  he. 

"Beautiful,  if  you  really  want  the  moon,  I 
don't  see  the  least  objection  to  your  continuing 
to  hope.  They  make  so  many  little  airships  and 
things  nowadays,  you  know,  and  you'll  probably 
find  it  only  green  cheese,  after  all.  What  is  green 
cheese,  I  wonder  ? — it  sounds  horribly  indigestible 
and  unattractive,  doesn't  it?"  Miss  Hugonin 
babbled,  in  a  tumult  of  fear  and  disappointment. 
He  was  about  to  spoil  their  friendship  now;  men 
were  so  utterly  inconsiderate.  "I'm  a  little 
cold,"  said  she,  mendaciously,  "I  really  must  go 
in." 

He  detained  her.  "  Surely,"  he  breathed,  "  you 
must  know  what  I  have  so  long  wanted  to  tell 
you " 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  she  protested, 
promptly.  "You  can  tell  me  all  about  it  in  the 
morning.  I  have  some  accounts  to  cast  up  to- 


70  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

night.  Besides,  I'm  not  a  good  person  to  tell 
secrets  to.  You — you'd  much  better  not  tell  me. 
Oh,  really,  Mr.  Kennaston,"  she  cried,  earnestly, 
"  you'd  much  better  not  tell  me  ! " 

"Ah,  Margaret,  Margaret,"  he  pleaded,  "I  am 
not  adamant.  I  am  only  a  man,  with  a  man's 
heart  that  hungers  for  you,  cries  for  you,  clamours 
for  you  day  by  day !  I  love  you,  beautiful  child 
— love  you  with  a  poet's  love  that  is  alien  to  these 
sordid  days,  with  a  love  that  is  half  worship.  I 
love  you  as  Leander  loved  his  Hero,  as  Pyramus 
loved  Thisbe.  Ah,  child,  child,  how  beautiful 
you  are !  You  are  fairest  of  created  women, 
child — fair  as  those  long-dead  queens  for  whose 
smiles  old  cities  burned  and  kingdoms  were 
lightly  lost.  I  am  mad  for  love  of  you  !  Ah,  have 
pity  upon  me,  Margaret,  for  I  love  you  very 
tenderly!" 

He  delivered  these  observations  with  appro 
priate  fervour. 

"Mr.  Kennaston,"  said  she,  "I  am  sorry.  We 
got  along  so  nicely  before,  and  I  was  so  proud  of 
your  friendship.  We've  had  such  good  times 
together,  you  and  I,  and  I've  liked  your  verses  so, 
and  I've  liked  you — Oh,  please,  please,  let's  keep 
on  being  just  friends!"  Margaret  wailed,  pite- 
ously. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  71 

"Friends!"  he  cried,  and  gave  a  bitter  laugh. 
"  I  was  never  friends  with  you,  Margaret.  Why, 
even  as  I  read  my  verses  to  you — those  pallid,  in 
effectual  verses  that  praised  you  timorously  under 
varied  names — even  then  there  pulsed  in  my 
veins  the  riotous  paean  of  love,  the  great  mad 
song  of  love  that  shamed  my  paltry  rhymes.  I 
cannot  be  friends  with  you,  child !  I  must  have 
all  or  nothing.  Bid  me  hope  or  go  ! " 

Miss  Hugonin  meditated  for  a  moment  and 
did  neither. 

"  Beautiful,"  she  presently  queried,  "would 
you  be  very,  very  much  shocked  if  I  descended 
to  slang?" 

"I  think,"  said  he,  with  an  uncertain  smile, 
"that  I  could  endure  it." 

"  Why,  then — cut  it  out,  beautiful !  Cut  it  out ! 
I  don't  believe  a  word  you've  said,  in  the  first 
place ;  and,  anyhow,  it  annoys  me  to  have  you  talk 
to  me  like  that.  I  don't  like  it,  and  it  simply 
makes  me  awfully,  awfully  tired." 

With  which  characteristic  speech,  Miss  Hugonin 
leaned  back  and  sat  up  very  rigidly  and  smiled 
at  him  like  a  cherub. 

Kennaston  groaned. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  will,"  he  assured  her,  with 
a  little  quaver  in  his  speech  that  was  decidedly 


72  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

effective.  "And  in  any  event,  I  am  not  sorry 
that  I  have  loved  you,  beautiful  child.  You 
have  always  been  a  power  for  good  in  my  life. 
You  have  gladdened  me  with  the  vision  of  a 
beauty  that  is  more  than  human,  you  have  heart 
ened  me  for  this  petty  business  of  living,  you  have 
praised  my  verses,  you  have  even  accorded  me 
certain  pecuniary  assistance  as  to  their  publica 
tion — though  I  must  admit  that  to  accept  it  of 
you  was  very  distasteful  to  me.  Ah!"  Felix 
Kennaston  cried,  with  a  quick  lift  of  speech, 
"impractical  child  that  I  am,  I  had  not  thought 
of  that !  My  love  had  caused  me  to  forget  the 
great  barrier  that  stands  between  us." 

He  gasped  and  took  a  short  turn  about  the 
court. 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Hugonin,"  he  entreated, 
when  his  emotions  were  under  a  little  better  con 
trol,  "for  having  spoken  as  I  did.  I  had  for 
gotten.  Think  of  me,  if  you  will,  as  no  better 
than  the  others — think  of  me  as  a  mere  fortune- 
hunter.  My  presumption  will  be  justly  punished. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  no,  it  isn't  that,"  she  cried;  "it  isn't 
that,  is  it?  You — you  would  care  just  as  much 
about  me  if  I  were  poor,  wouldn't  you,  beautiful  ? 
I  don't  want  you  to  care  for  me,  of  course," 
Margaret  added,  with  haste.  "  I  want  to  go  on 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  73 

being  friends.  Oh,  that  money,  that  nasty 
money  !"  she  cried,  in  a  sudden  gust  of  petulance. 
"  It  makes  me  so  distrustful,  and  I  can't  help  it ! " 

He  smiled  at  her  wistfully.  "My  dear,"  said 
he,  "are  there  no  mirrors  at  Selwoode  to  remove 
your  doubts?" 

"I — yes,  I  do  believe  in  you,"  she  said,  at 
length.  "  But  I  don't  want  to  marry  you.  You 
see,  I'm  not  a  bit  in  love  with  you,"  Margaret 
explained,  candidly. 

Ensued  a  silence.  Mr.  Kennaston  bowed  his 
head. 

"  You  bid  me  go  ? "  said  he. 

"No — not  exactly,"  said  she. 

He  indicated  a  movement  toward  her. 

"Now,  you  needn't  attempt  to  take  any 
liberties  with  me,"  Miss  Hugonin  announced, 
decisively,  "because  if  you  do  I'll  never  speak  to 
you  again.  You  must  let  me  go  now.  You — 
you  must  let  me  think." 

Then  Felix  Kennaston  acted  very  wisely.  He 
rose  and  stood  aside,  with  a  little  bow. 

"I  can  wait,  child,"  he  said,  sadly.  "I  have 
already  waited  a  long  time." 

Miss  Hugonin  escaped  into  the  house  without 
further  delay.  It  was  very  flattering,  of  course; 
he  had  spoken  beautifully,  she  thought,  and 


74  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

nobly  and  poetically  and  considerately,  and  alto 
gether  there  was  absolutely  no  excuse  for  her 
being  in  a  temper.  Still,  she  was. 

The  moon,  however,  considered  the  affair  as 
arranged. 

For  she  had  been  no  whit  more  resolute  in  her 
refusal,  you  see,  than  becomes  any  self-respecting 
maid.  In  fact,  she  had  not  refused  him ;  and  the 
experienced  moon  had  seen  the  hopes  of  many  a 
wooer  thrive,  chameleon-like,  on  answers  far  less 
encouraging  than  that  which  Margaret  had  given 
Felix  Kennaston. 

Margaret  was  very  fond  of  him.  All  women 
like  a  man  who  can  do  a  picturesque  thing  without 
bothering  to  consider  whether  or  not  he  be  making 
himself  ridiculous ;  and  more  than  once  in  thinking 
of  him  she  had  wondered  if — perhaps — possibly 

— some  day ?  And  always  these  vague  flights 

of  fancy  had  ended  at  this  precise  point — incine 
rated,  if  you  will  grant  me  the  simile,  by  the 
sudden  flaming  of  her  cheeks. 

The  thing  is  common  enough.  You  may 
remember  that  Romeo  was  not  the  only  gentle 
man  that  Juliet  noticed  at  her  debut:  there  was 
the  young  Petruchio;  and  the  son  and  heir  of  old 
Tiberio;  and  I  do  not  question  that  she  had  a 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  75 

kind  glance  or  so  for  County  Paris.  Beyond 
doubt,  there  were  many  with  whom  my  lady  had 
danced;  with  whom  she  had  laughed  a  little; 
with  whom  she  had  exchanged  a  few  perfectly 
affable  words  and  looks — when  of  a  sudden  her 
heart  speaks :  "  Who's  he  that  would  not  dance  ? 
If  he  be  married,  my  grave  is  like  to  prove  my 
marriage -bed."  In  any  event,  Paris  and  Petru- 
chio  and  Tiberio's  young  hopeful  can  go  hang; 
Romeo  has  come. 

Romeo  is  seldom  the  first.  Pray  you,  what 
was  there  to  prevent  Juliet  from  admiring  So-and- 
so's  dancing?  or  from  observing  that  Signor  Such- 
an-one  had  remarkably  expressive  eyes?  or  from 
thinking  of  Tybalt  as  a  dear,  reckless  fellow  whom 
it  was  the  duty  of  some  good  woman  to  rescue 
from  perdition?  If  no  one  blames  the  young 
Montague  for  sending  Rosaline  to  the  right-about 
— Rosaline  for  whom  he  was  weeping  and  rhyming 
an  hour  before — why,  pray,  should  not  Signorina 
Capulet  have  had  a  few  previous  affaires  du  coeur? 
Depend  upon  it,  she  had ;  for  was  she  not  already 
past  thirteen? 

In  like  manner,  I  dare  say  that  a  deal  passed 
between  Desdemona  and  Cassio  that  the  honest 
Moor  never  knew  of;  and  that  Lucrece  was 
probably  very  pleasant  and  agreeable  to  Tarquin, 


;6  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

as  a  well-bred  hostess  should  be;  and  that  Helen 
had  that  little  affair  with  Theseus  before  she  ever 
thought  of  Paris;  and  that  if  Cleopatra  died  for 
love  of  Antony  it  was  not  until  she  had  previously 
lived  a  great  while  with  Caesar. 

So  Felix  Kennaston  had  his  hour.  Now 
Margaret  has  gone  into  Selwoode,  flame-faced  and 
quite  unconscious  that  she  is  humming  under  her 
breath  the  words  of  a  certain  inane  old  song: 

"Oh,  she  sat  for  me  a  chair; 
She  has  ringlets  in  her  hair; 
She's  a  young  thing  and  cannot  leave  her  mother" — 

only  she  sang  it  "father."  And  afterward,  she 
suddenly  frowned  and  stamped  her  foot,  did 
Margaret. 

"I  hate  him!"  said  she;  but  she  looked  very 
guilty. 


IN  the  living-hall  of  Selwoode  Miss  Hugonin 
paused.  Undeniably  there  were  the  accounts  of 
the  Ladies'  League  for  the  Edification  of  the 
Impecunious  to  be  put  in  order;  her  monthly 
report  as  treasurer  was  due  in  a  few  days,  and 
Margaret  was  in  such  matters  a  careful,  pains 
taking  body,  and  not  wholly  dependent  upon  her 
secretary;  but  she  was  entirely  too  much  out  of 
temper  to  attend  to  that  now. 

It  was  really  all  Mr.  Kennaston's  fault,  she 
assured  a  pricking  conscience,  as  she  went  out  on 
the  terrace  before  Selwoode.  He  had  bothered 
her  dreadfully. 

There  she  found  Petheridge  Jukesbury  smoking 
placidly  in  the  effulgence  of  the  moonlight;  and 
the  rotund,  pasty  countenance  he  turned  toward 
her  was  ludicrously  like  the  moon's  counterfeit 
in  muddy  water.  I  am  sorry  to  admit  it,  but 
Mr.  Jukesbury  had  dined  somewhat  injudiciously. 
You  are  not  to  stretch  the  phrase ;  he  was  merely 
prepared  to  accord  the  universe  his  approval,  to 
pat  Destiny  upon  the  head,  and  his  thoughts  ran 

77 


78  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

clear  enough,  but  with  Aprilian  counter-changes 
of  the  jovial  and  the  lachrymose. 

"Ah,  Miss  Hugonin,"  he  greeted  her,  with  a 
genial  smile,  "  I  am  indeed  fortunate.  You  find 
me  deep  in  meditation,  and  also,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  in  the  practise  of  a  most  pernicious  habit. 
You  do  not  object  ?  Ah,  that  is  so  like  you.  You 
are  always  kind,  Miss  Hugonin.  Your  kindness, 
which  falls,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  as  the 
gentle  rain  from  Heaven  upon  all  deserving 
charitable  institutions,  and  daily  comforts  the 
destitute  with  good  advice  and  consoles  the  sor 
rowing  with  blankets,  would  now  induce  you  to 
tolerate  an  odour  which  I  am  sure  is  personally 
distasteful  to  you." 

"But  really  I  don't  mind,"  was  Margaret's 
protest. 

"I  cannot  permit  it,"  Mr.  Jukesbury  insisted, 
and  waved  a  pudgy  hand  in  the  moonlight.  "  No, 
really,  I  cannot  permit  it.  We  will  throw  it 
away,  if  you  please,  and  say  no  more  about  it," 
and  his  glance  followed  the  glowing  flight  of  his 
cigar-end  somewhat  wistfully.  "Your  father's 
cigars  are  such  as  it  is  seldom  my  privilege  to 
encounter;  but,  then,  my  personal  habits  are  not 
luxurious,  nor  my  private  income  precisely  what 
my  childish  imaginings  had  pictured  it  at  this 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  79 

comparatively  advanced  period  of  life.  Ah, 
youth,  youth ! — as  the  poet  admirably  says,  Miss 
Hugonin,  the  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long 
thoughts,  but  its  visions  of  existence  are  rose- 
tinged  and  free  from  care,  and  its  conception  of 
the  responsibilities  of  manhood — such  as  taxes 
and  the  water-rate — I  may  safely  characterise  as 
extremely  sketchy.  But  pray  be  seated,  Miss 
Hugonin,"  Petheridge  Jukesbury  blandly  urged. 

Common  courtesy  forced  her  to  comply.  So 
Margaret  seated  herself  on  a  little  red  rustic 
bench.  In  the  moonlight — but  I  think  I  have 
mentioned  how  Margaret  looked  in  the  moon 
light;  and  above  her  golden  head  the  Eagle, 
sculptured  over  the  doorway,  stretched  his  wings 
to  the  uttermost,  half-protectingly,  half -threaten 
ingly,  and  seemed  to  view  Mr.  Jukesbury  with  a 
certain  air  of  expectation. 

"A  beautiful  evening,"  Petheridge  Jukesbury 
suggested,  after  a  little  cogitation. 

She  conceded  that  this  was  undeniable. 

"  Where  Nature  smiles,  and  only  the  conduct 
of  man  is  vile  and  altogether  what  it  ought  not 
to  be,"  he  continued,  with  unction — ''ah,  how 
true  that  is  and  how  consoling !  It  is  a  good 
thing  to  meditate  upon  our  own  vileness,  Miss 
Hugonin — to  reflect  that  we  are  but  worms  with 


8o  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

naturally  the  most  vicious  inclinations.  It  is 
most  salutary.  Even  I  am  but  a  worm,  Miss 
Hugonin,  though  the  press  has  been  pleased  to 
speak  most  kindly  of  me.  Even  you — ah,  no!" 
cried  Mr.  Jukesbury,  kissing  his  finger-tips,  with 
gallantry;  "let  us  say  a  worm  who  has  burst  its 
cocoon  and  become  a  butterfly — a  butterfly 
with  a  charming  face  and  a  most  charitable  dis 
position  and  considerable  property  ! ' ' 

Margaret  thanked  him  with  a  smile,  and  began 
to  think  wistfully  of  the  Ladies'  League  accounts. 
Still,  he  was  a  good  man;  and  she  endeavoured 
to  persuade  herself  that  she  considered  his  good 
ness  to  atone  for  his  flabbiness  and  his  fleshiness 
and  his  interminable  verbosity — wrhich  she  didn't. 

Mr.  Jukesbury  sighed. 

"A  naughty  world,"  said  he,  with  pathos — "a 
very  naughty  world,  which  really  does  not  deserve 
the  honour  of  including  you  in  its  census  reports. 
Yet  I  dare  say  it  has  the  effrontery  to  put  you 
down  in  the  tax-lists ;  it  even  puts  me  down — me, 
an  humble  worker  in  the  vineyard,  with  both 
hands  set  to  the  plough.  And  if  I  don't  pay  up 
it  sells  me  out.  A  very  naughty  world,  indeed ! 
I  dare  say,"  Mr.  Jukesbury  observed,  raising  his 
eyes — not  toward  heaven,  but  toward  the  Eagle, 
"that  its  conduct,  as  the  poet  says,  creates  con- 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  81 

siderable  distress  among  the  angels.  I  don't 
know.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  many  angels. 
My  wife  was  an  angel,  but  she  is  now  a  lifeless 
form.  She  has  been  for  five  years.  I  erected  a 
tomb  to  her  at  considerable  personal  expense,  but 
I  don't  begrudge  it — no,  I  don't  begrudge  it,  Miss 
Hugonin.  She  was  very  hard  to  live  with.  But 
she  was  an  angel,  and  angels  are  rare.  Miss 
Hugonin,"  said  Petheridge  Jukesbury,  with  em 
phasis,  "'you  are  an  angel." 

"Oh,  dear,  dear!"  said  Margaret,  to  herself;  "I 
do  wish  I'd  gone  to  bed  directly  after  dinner !" 

Above  them  the  Eagle  brooded. 

"Surely,"  he  breathed,  "you  must  know  what 
I  have  so  long  wanted  to  tell  you " 

"No,"  said  Margaret,  "and  I  don't  want  to 
know,  please.  You  make  me  awfully  tired,  and 
I  don't  care  for  you  in  the  least.  Now,  you  let  go 
my  hand — let  go  at  once  ! " 

He  detained  her.  "You  are  an  angel,"  he 
insisted — "  an  angel  with  a  large  property.  I  love 
you,  Margaret !  Be  mine ! — be  my  blushing 
bride,  I  entreat  you !  Your  property  is  far  too 
large  for  an  angel  to  look  after.  You  need  a  man 
of  affairs.  I  am  a  man  of  affairs.  I  am  forty-five, 
and  have  no  bad  habits.  My  press-notices  are, 
as  a  rule,  favourable,  my  eloquence  is  accounted 


8a  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

considerable,  and  my  dearest  aspiration  is  that 
you  will  comfort  my  declining  years.  I  might  add 
that  I  adore  you,  but  I  think  I  mentioned  that 
before.  Margaret,  will  you  be  my  blushing 
bride?" 

"  No  ! "  said  Miss  Hugonin  emphatically.  ."  No, 
you  tipsy  old  beast — no  /" 

There  was  a  rustle  of  skirts.  The  door  slammed, 
and  the  philanthropist  was  left  alone  on  the 
terrace. 


XI 


IN  the  living-hall  Margaret  came  upon  Hugh 
Van  Orden,  who  was  searching  in  one  of  the 
alcoves  for  a  piece  of  music  that  Adele  Haggage 
wanted  and  had  misplaced. 

The  boy  greeted  her  miserably. 

"Miss  Hugonin,"  he  lamented,  " you're  awfully 
hard  on  me." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Margaret,  "that  you  con 
sider  me  discourteous  to  a  guest  in  my  own 
house."  Oh,  I  grant  you  Margaret  was  in  a 
temper  now. 

"It  isn't  that,"  he  protested;  "but  I  never 
see  you  alone.  And  I've  had  something  to  tell 
you." 

"Yes?"  said  she,  coldly. 

He  drew  near  to  her.  "Surely,"  he  breathed, 
"you  must  know  what  I  have  long  wanted  to 
tell  you " 

"Yes,  I  should  think  I  did!"  said  Margaret, 
"and  if  you  dare  tell  me  a  word  of  it  I'll  never 
speak  to  you  again.  It's  getting  a  little  monoto 
nous.  Good-night,  Mr.  Van  Orden." 

83 


84  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

Half  way  up  the  stairs  she  paused  and  ran 
lightly  back. 

"Oh,  Hugh,  Hugh!"  she  said,  contritely,  "I 
was  unpardonably  rude.  I'm  sorry,  dear,  but 
it's  quite  impossible.  You  are  a  dear,  cute  little 
boy,  and  I  love  you — but  not  that  way.  So  let's 
shake  hands,  Hugh,  and  be  friends !  And  then 
you  can  go  and  play  with  Adele." 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips.  He  really  was 
a  nice  boy. 

"But,  oh,  dear!"  said  Margaret,  when  he  had 
gone;  "what  horrid  creatures  men  are,  and  what 
a  temper  I'm  in,  and  what  a  vexatious  place  the 
world  is  !  I  wish  I  were  a  pauper !  I  wish  I  had 
never  been  born  !  And  I  wish — and  I  wish  I  had 
those  League  papers  fixed!  I'll  do  it  to-night! 
I'm  sure  I  need  something  tranquillising,  like 
assessments  and  decimal  places  and  unpaid  dues, 
to  keep  me  from  screaming.  I  hate  them  all — 
all  three  of  them — as  badly  as  I  do  him ! " 

Thereupon  she  blushed,  for  no  apparent  reason, 
and  went  to  her  own  rooms  in  a  frame  of  mind 
that  was  inexcusable,  but  very  becoming.  Her 
cheeks  burned,  her  eyes  flashed  with  a  brighter 
glow  that  was  gem-like  and  a  little  cruel,  and  her 
chin  tilted  up  defiantly.  Margaret  had  a  resolute 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  85 

chin,  a  masculine  chin.  I  fancy  that  it  was  only 
at  the  last  moment  that  Nature  found  it  a  thought 
too  boyish  and  modified  it  with  a  dimple — a 
very  creditable  dimple,  by  the  way,  that  she 
must  have  been  really  proud  of.  That  ridiculous 
little  dint  saved  it,  feminised  it. 

Altogether,  then,  she  swept  down  upon  the 
papers  of  the  Ladies'  League  for  the  Edification 
of  the  Impecunious  with  very  much  the  look  of  a 
diminutive  Valkyrie — a  Valkyrie  of  unusual  per 
sonal  attractions,  you  understand — en  route  for 
the  battle-field  and  a  little,  a  very  little  eager 
and  expectant  of  the  strife. 

Subsequently,  "Oh,  dear,  dear!"  said  she,  amid 
a  feverish  rustling  of  papers;  "the  whole  world  is 
out  of  sorts  to-night !  I  never  did  know  how 
much  seven  times  eight  is,  and  I  hate  everybody, 
and  I've  left  that  list  of  unpaid  dues  in  Uncle 
Fred's  room,  and  I've  got  to  go  after  it,  and  I 
don't  want  to !  Bother  those  little  suitors  of 
mine!" 

Miss  Hugonin  rose,  and  went  out  from  her 
own  rooms,  carrying  a  bunch  of  keys,  across 
the  hallway  to  the  room  in  which  Frederick 
R.  Woods  had  died.  It  was  his  study,  you 
may  remember.  It  had  been  little  used  since 
his  death,  but  Margaret  kept  her  less  important 


86  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

papers  there — the  overflow,  the  flotsam  of 
her  vast  philanthropic  and  educational  corre 
spondence. 

And  there  she  found  Billy  Woods. 


XII 


His  back  was  turned  to  the  door  as  she  entered. 
He  was  staring  at  a  picture  beside  the  mantel — a 
portrait  of  Frederick  R.  Woods — and  his  eyes 
when  he  wheeled  about  were  wistful. 

Then,  on  a  sudden,  they  lighted  up  as  if  they 
had  caught  fire  from  hers,  and  his  adoration 
flaunted  crimson  banners  in  his  cheeks,  and  his 
heart,  I  dare  say,  was  a  great  blaze  of  happiness. 
He  loved  her,  you  see;  when  she  entered  a  room 
it  really  made  a  difference  to  this  absurd  young 
man.  He  saw  a  great  many  lights,  for  instance, 
and  heard  music.  And  accordingly,  he  laughed 
now  in  a  very  contented  fashion. 

"I  wasn't  burglarising,"  said  he — " that  is,  not 
exactly.  I  ought  to  have  asked  your  permission, 
I  suppose,  before  coming  here,  but  I  couldn't 
find  you,  and — and  it  was  rather  important. 
You  see,"  Mr.  Woods  continued,  pointing  to  the 
great  carved  desk.  "  I  happened  to  speak  of  this 
desk  to  the  Colonel  to-night.  We — we  were 
talking  of  Uncle  Fred's  death,  and  I  found  out, 
quite  by  accident,  that  it  hadn't  been  searched 

87 


88  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

since  then — that  is,  not  thoroughly.  There  are 
secret  drawers,  you  see ;  one  here,"  and  he  touched 
the  spring  that  threw  it  open,  "and  the  other  on 
this  side.  There  is — there  is  nothing  of  impor 
tance  in  them ;  only  receipted  bills  and  such.  The 
other  drawer  is  inside  that  centre  compartment, 
which  is  locked.  The  Colonel  wouldn't  come. 
He  said  it  was  all  foolishness,  and  that  he  had  a 
book  he  wanted  to  read.  So  he  sent  me  after 
what  he  called  my  mare's  nest.  It  isn't,  you  see 
— no,  not  quite,  not  quite,"  Mr.  Woods  mur 
mured,  with  an  odd  smile,  and  then  laughed  and 
added,  lamely:  "I — I  suppose  I'm  the  only 
person  who  knew  about  it." 

Mr.  Woods's  manner  was  a  thought  strange. 
He  stammered  a  little  in  speaking;  he  laughed 
unnecessarily;  and  Margaret  could  see  that  his 
hands  trembled.  Taking  him  all  in  all,  you 
would  have  sworn  he  was  repressing  some  vital 
emotion.  But  he  did  not  seem  unhappy — no, 
not  exactly  unhappy.  He  was  with  Margaret, 
you  see. 

"Oh,  you  beauty  !"  his  meditations  ran. 

He  had  some  excuse.  In  the  soft,  rosy  twilight 
of  the  room — the  study  at  Selwoode  is  panelled 
in  very  dark  oak,  and  the  doors  and  windows 
are  screened  with  crimson  hangings — her  parti- 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  89 

coloured  red-and-yellow  gown  might  have  been 
a  scrap  of  afterglow  left  over  from  an  unusually 
fine  sunset.  In  a  word,  Miss  Hugonin  was  a  very 
quaint  and  colourful  and  delectable  figure  as  she 
came  a  little  further  into  the  room.  Her  eyes 
shone  like  blue  stars,  and  her  hair  shone — there 
must  be  pounds  of  it,  Billy  thought — and 
her  very  shoulders,  plump,  flawless,  ineffable, 
shone  with  the  glow  of  an  errant  cloud- 
tatter  that  is  just  past  the  track  of  dawn, 
and  is  therefore  neither  pink  nor  white,  but 
manages  somehow  to  combine  the  best  points 
of  both  colours. 

"Ah,  indeed?"  said  Miss  Hugonin.  Her  tone 
imparted  a  surprising  degree  of  chilliness  to  this 
simple  remark. 

"No,"  she  went  on,  very  formally,  "this  is  not 
a  private  room ;  you  owe  me  no  apology  for  being 
here.  Indeed,  I  am  rather  obliged  to  you,  Mr. 
Woods,  for  none  of  us  knew  of  these  secret 
drawers.  Here  is  the  key  to  the  central  compart 
ment,  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  point  out  the 
other  one.  Dear,  dear!"  Margaret  concluded, 
languidly, '"  all  this  is  quite  like  a  third-rate 
melodrama.  I  haven't  the  least  doubt  you  will 
discover  a  will  in  there  in  your  favour,  and  be 
reinstated  as  the  long-lost  heir  and  all  that  sort 


90  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

of  thing.  How  tiresome  that  will  be  for  me, 
though." 

She  was  in  a  mood  to  be  cruel  to-night.  She 
held  out  the  keys  to  him,  in  a  disinterested 
fashion,  and  dropped  them  daintily  into  his 
outstretched  palm,  just  as  she  might  have  given 
a  coin  to  an  unusually  grimy  mendicant.  But 
the  tips  of  her  fingers  grazed  his  hand. 

That  did  the  mischief.  Her  least  touch  was 
enough  to  set  every  nerve  in  his  body  a-tingle. 

"  Peggy  ! "  he  said  hoarsely,  as  the  keys  jangled 
to  the  floor.  Then  Mr.  Woods  drew  a  little 
nearer  to  her  and  said  "Peggy,  Peggy!"  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  curiously,  and  appeared  to 
have  no  intention  of  saying  anything  further. 

Indeed,  words  would  have  seemed  mere  tau 
tology  to  any  one  who  could  have  seen  his  eyes. 
Margaret  looked  into  them  for  a  minute,  and  her 
own  eyes  fell  before  their  blaze,  and  her  heart — 
very  foolishly — stood  still  for  a  breathing-space. 
Subsequently  she  recalled  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
fortune-hunter,  and  that  she  despised  him,  and 
also  observed — to  her  surprise  and  indignation — 
that  he  was  holding  her  hand  and  had  apparently 
been  doing  so  for  some  time.  You  may  believe 
it,  that  she  withdrew  that  pink-and- white  trifle 
angrily  enough, 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  91 

"Pray  don't  be  absurd,  Mr.  Woods,"  said  she. 

Billy  caught  up  the  word.  " Absurd!"  he 
echoed — "yes,  that  describes  what  I've  been 
pretty  well,  doesn't  it,  Peggy?  I  was  absurd 
when  I  let  you  send  me  to  the  right-about  four 
years  ago.  I  realised  that  to-day  the  moment  I 
saw  you.  I  should  have  held  on  like  the  very 
grimmest  death;  I  should  have  bullied  you  into 
marrying  me,  if  necessary,  and  in  spite  of  fifty 
Anstruthers.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  now.  But  I 
was  only  a  boy  then,  Peggy,  and  so  I  let  a  boy's 
pride  come  between  us.  I  know  now  there  isn't 
any  question  of  pride  where  you  are  concerned — 
not  any  question  of  pride  nor  of  any  silly  misun 
derstandings,  nor  of  any  uncle's  wishes,  nor  of 
anything  but  just  you,  Peggy.  It's  just  you  that 
I  care  for  now — just  you." 

"Ah!"  Margaret  cried,  with  a  swift  intake  of 
the  breath  that  was  almost  a  sob.  He  had  dared, 
after  all ;  oh,  it  was  shameless,  sordid  !  And  yet 
(she  thought  dimly),  how  dear  that  little  quiver 
in  his  voice  had  been  were  it  unplanned ! — and 
how  she  could  have  loved  this  big,  eager  boy 
were  he  not  the  hypocrite  she  knew  him  ! 

She'd  show  him !  But  somehow — though  it 
was  manifestly  what  he  deserved — she  found  she 
couldn't  look  him  in  the  face  while  she  did  it. 


92  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

So  she  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  floor  and  waited 
for  a  moment  of  tense  silence.  Then,  "Am  I  to 
consider  this  a  proposal,  Mr.  Woods?"  she  asked, 
in  muffled  tones. 

Billy  stared.  "Yes,"  said  he,  very  gravely, 
after  an  interval. 

"You  see,"  she  explained,  still  in  the  same  dull 
voice,  "you  phrased  it  so  vaguely  I  couldn't  well 
be  certain.  You  don't  propose  very  well,  Mr. 
Woods.  I — I've  had  opportunities  to  become 
an  authority  on  such  matters,  you  see,  since  I've 
been  rich.  That  makes  a  difference,  doesn't  it? 
A  great  many  men  are  willing  to  marry  me  now 
who  wouldn't  have  thought  of  such  a  thing,  say — 
say,  four  years  ago.  So  I've  had  some  experience. 
Oh,  yes,  three — three  persons  have  offered  to 
marry  me  for  my  money  earlier  in  this  very 
evening — before  you  did,  Mr.  Woods.  And, 
really,  I  can't  compliment  you  on  your  methods, 
Mr.  Woods ;  they  are  a  little  vague,  a  little  abrupt, 
a  little  transparent,  don't  you  think?" 

"Peggy!"  he  cried,  in  a  frightened  whisper. 
He  could  not  believe,  you  see,  that  it  was  the 
woman  he  loved  who  was  speaking. 

And  for  my  part,  I  admit  frankly  that  at  this 
very  point,  if  ever  in  her  life,  Margaret  deserved 
a  thorough  shaking. 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  93 

"Dear  me,"  she  airily  observed,  "I'm  sure  I've 
said  nothing  out  of  the  way.  I  think  it  speaks 
very  well  for  you  that  you're  so  fond  of  your  old 
home — so  anxious  to  regain  it  at  any  cost.  It's 
quite  touching,  Mr.  Woods." 

She  raised  her  eyes  toward  his.  I  dare  say 
she  was  suffering  as  much  as  he.  But  women 
consider  it  a  point  of  honour  to  smile  when  they 
stab;  Margaret  smiled  with  an  innocence  that 
would  have  seemed  overdone  in  an  angel. 

Then,  in  an  instant,  she  had  the  grace  to  be 
abjectly  ashamed  of  herself.  Billy's  face  had 
gone  white.  His  mouth  was  set,  mask-like,  and 
his  breathing  was  a  little  perfunctory.  It  stung 
her,  though,  that  he  was  not  angry.  He  was  sorry. 

"I — I  see,"  he  said,  very  carefully.  "You 
think  I — want  the  money.  Yes — I  see." 

"And  why  not?"  she  queried,  pleasantly. 
"  Dear  me,  money's  a  very  sensible  thing  to  want, 
I'm  sure.  It  makes  a  great  difference,  you 
know." 

He  looked  down  into  her  face  for  a  moment. 
One  might  have  sworn  this  detected  fortune- 
hunter  pitied  her. 

"Yes,"  he  assented,  slowly,  "it  makes  a  dif 
ference — not  a  difference  for  the  better,  I'm 
afraid,  Peggy." 


94  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

Ensued  a  silence. 

Then  Margaret  tossed  her  head.  She  was  fast 
losing  her  composure.  She  would  have  given 
the  world  to  retract  what  she  had  said,  and  ac 
cordingly  she  resolved  to  brazen  it  out. 

"You  needn't  look  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  con 
victed  criminal,"  she  said,  sharply.  "I  won't 
marry  you,  and  there's  an  end  of  it." 

"  It  isn't  that  I'm  thinking  of,"  said  Mr.  Woods, 
with  a  grave  smile.  "  You  see,  it  takes  me  a  little 
time  to  realise  your  honest  opinion  of  me.  I 
believe  I  understand  now.  You  think  me  a  very 
hopeless  cad — that's  about  your  real  opinion, 
isn't  it,  Peggy?  I  didn't  know  that,  you  see.  I 
thought  you  knew  me  better  than  that.  You  did 
once,  Peggy — once,  a  long  time  ago,  and — and  I 
hoped  you  hadn't  quite  forgotten  that  time." 

The  allusion  was  ill  chosen. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!"  she  cried,  gasping.  "You  to 
remind  me  of  that  time  ! — you  of  all  men.  Haven't 
you  a  vestige  of  shame?  Haven't  you  a  rag  of 
honour  left  ?  Oh,  I  didn't  know  there  were  such 

men  in  the  world  !  And  to  think — to  think ' ' 

Margaret's  glorious  voice  broke,  and  she  wrung 
her  hands  helplessly. 

Then,  after  a  little,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his, 
and  spoke  without  a  trace  of  emotion.  "To 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  95 

think,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  toneless  now, 
"  to  think  that  I  loved  you  !  It's  that  that  hurts, 
you  know.  For  I  loved  you  very  dearly,  Billy 
Woods — yes,  I  think  I  loved  you  quite  as  much 
as  any  woman  can  ever  love  a  man.  You  were 
the  first,  you  see,  and  girls — girls  are  very  foolish 
about  such  things.  I  thought  you  were  brave, 
and  strong,  and  clean,  and  honest,  and  beautiful, 
and  dear — oh,  quite  the  best  and  dearest  man  in 
the  world,  I  thought  you,  Billy  Woods  !  That — 
that  was  queer,  wasn't  it?"  she  asked,  with  a 
listless  little  shiver.  "Yes,  it  was  very  queer. 
You  didn't  think  of  me  in  quite  that  way,  did  you  ? 
No,  you — you  thought  I  was  well  enough  to 
amuse  you  for  a  while.  I  was  well  enough  for 
a  summer  flirtation,  wasn't  I,  Billy?  But 
marriage — ah,  no,  you  never  thought  of  marriage 
then.  You  ran  away  when  Uncle  Fred  suggested 
that.  You  refused  point-blank — refused  in  this 
very  room — didn't  you,  Billy?  Ah,  that — that 
hurt,"  Margaret  ended,  with  a  faint  smile.  "Yes, 
it— hurt." 

Billy  Woods  raised  a  protesting  hand,  as 
though  to  speak,  but  afterward  he  drew  a  deep, 
tremulous  breath  and  bit  his  lip  and  was  silent. 

She  had  spoken  very  quietly,  very  simply,  very 
like  a  tired  child;  now  her  voice  lifted.  "But 


96  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

you've  hurt  me  more  to-night,"  she  said,  equably 
— "to-night,  when  you've  come  cringing  back  to 
me — to  me,  whom  you'd  have  none  of  when  I  was 
poor.  I'm  rich  now,  though.  That  makes  a 
difference,  doesn't  it,  Billy?  You're  willing  to 
whistle  back  the  girl's  love  you  flung  away  once — 
yes,  quite  willing.  But  can't  you  understand 
how  much  it  must  hurt  me  to  think  I  ever  loved 
you?"  Margaret  asked,  very  gently. 

She  wanted  him  to  understand.  She  wanted 
him  to  be  ashamed.  She  prayed  God  that  he 
might  be  just  a  little,  little  bit  ashamed,  so  that 
she  might  be  able  to  forgive  him. 

But  he  stood  silent,  bending  puzzled  brows 
toward  her. 

"Can't  you  understand,  Billy?"  she  pleaded, 
softly.  "  I  can't  help  seeing  what  a  cur  you  are. 
I  must  hate  you,  Billy — of  course,  I  must,"  she 
insisted,  very  gently,  as  though  arguing  the  matter 
with  herself ;  then  suddenly  she  sobbed  and  wrung 
her  hands  in  anguish.  "Oh,  I  can't,  I  can't!" 
she  wailed.  "God  help  me,  I  can't  hate  you, 
even  though  I  know  you  for  what  you  are  ! " 

His  arms  lifted  a  little ;  and  in  a  flash  Margaret 
knew  that  what  she  most  wanted  in  all  the  world 
was  to  have  them  close  about  her,  and  then  to  lay 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder  and  cry  contentedly. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  97 

Oh,  she  did  want  to  forgive  him !  If  he  had  lost 
all  sense  of  shame,  why  could  he  not  lie  to  her? 
Surely,  he  could  at  least  lie?  And,  oh,  how 
gladly  she  would  believe ! — only  the  tiniest,  the 
flimsiest  fiction,  her  eyes  craved  of  him. 

But  he  merely  said  "I  see — I  see,"  very 
slowly,  and  then  smiled.  "We'll  put  the  money 
aside  just  now,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps,  after  a  little, 
we — we'll  came  back  to  that.  I  think  you've 
forgotten,  though,  that  when — when  Uncle  Fred 
and  I  had  our  difference  you  had  just  thrown  me 
over — had  just  ordered  me  never  to  speak  to  you 
again?  I  couldn't  very  well  ask  you  to  marry 
me,  could  I,  under  those  circumstances?" 

"I  spoke  in  a  moment  of  irritation,"  a  very 
dignified  Margaret  pointed  out;  "you  would  have 
paid  no  attention  whatever  to  it  if  you  had 
really — cared." 

Billy  laughed,  rather  sadly.  "Oh,  I  cared 
right  enough,"  he  said.  "I  still  care.  The 
question  is — do  you?" 

"No,"  said  Margaret,  with  decision,  "I  don't — 
not  in  the  least." 

"Peggy,"  Mr.  Woods  commanded,  "look  at 
me!" 

"You  have  had  your  answer,  I  think,"  Miss 
Hugonin  indifferently  observed. 


98  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Billy  caught  her  chin  in  his  hand  and  turned 
her  face  to  his.  "Peggy,  do  you — care?"  he 
asked,  softly. 

And  Margaret  looked  into  his  honest-seeming 
eyes  and,  in  a  panic,  knew  that  her  traitor  lips 
were  forming  "yes." 

"That  would  be  rather  unfortunate,  wouldn't 
it?"  she  asked,  with  a  smile.  "You  see,  it  was 
only  an  hour  ago  I  promised  to  marry  Mr.  Ken- 
naston." 

"Kennaston!"  Billy  gasped.  "You — you 
don't  mean  that  you  care  for  him,  Peggy  ? " 

"  I  really  can't  see  why  it  should  concern  you," 
said  Margaret,  sweetly,  "but  since  you  ask — I  do. 
You  couldn't  expect  me  to  remain  inconsolable 
forever,  you  know." 

Then  the  room  blurred  before  her  eyes.  She 
stood  rigid,  defiant.  She  was  dimly  aware 
that  Billy  was  speaking,  speaking  from  a  great 
distance,  it  seemed,  and  then  after  a 
century  or  two  his  face  came  back  to  her 
out  of  the  whirl  of  things.  And,  though  she 
did  not  know  it,  they  were  smiling  bravely 
at  one  another. 

" — and  so,"  Mr.  Woods  was  stating,  "I've 
been  an  even  greater  ass  than  usual,  and  I  hope 
you'll  be  very,  very  happy." 


a 


Billy  unfolded  it  slowly,  with  a  puzzled 
look  growing  in  his  countenance." 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  99 

"Thank  you,"  she  returned,  mechanically, 
"I— I  hope  so." 

After  an  interval,  " Good-night,  Peggy,"  said 
Mr.  Woods. 

"Oh ?  Good-night,"  said  she,  with  a 

start. 

He  turned  to  go.  Then,  "  By  Jove  !"  said  he, 
grimly,  "I've  been  so  busy  making  an  ass  of 
myself  I'd  forgotten  all  about  more — more  im 
portant  things." 

Mr.  Woods  picked  up  the  keys  and,  going  to  the 
desk,  unlocked  the  centre  compartment  with  a 
jerk.  Afterward  he  gave  a  sharp  exclamation. 
He  had  found  a  paper  in  the  secret  drawer  at  the 
back  which  appeared  to  startle  him. 

Billy  unfolded  it  slowly,  with  a  puzzled  look 
growing  in  his  countenance.  Then  for  a  moment 
Margaret's  golden  head  drew  close  to  his  yellow 
curls  and  they  read  it  through  together.  And  in 
the  most  melodramatic  and  improbable  fashion 
in  the  world  they  found  it  to  be  the  last  will  and 
testament  of  Frederick  R.  Woods. 

"But — but  I  don't  understand,"  was  Miss 
Hugonin's  awed  comment,  "It's  exactly  like 
the  other  will,  only — why,  it's  dated  the  seven 
teenth  of  June,  the  day  before  he  died  !  And  it's 
witnessed  by  Hodges  and  Burton — the  butler  and 


ioo  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

the  first  footman,  you  know — and  they've  never 
said  anything  about  such  a  paper.  And,  then, 
why  should  he  have  made  another  will  just  like 
the  first?" 

Billy  pondered. 

By  and  bye,  "I  think  I  can  explain  that,"  he 
said,  in  a  rather  peculiar  voice.  "You  see, 
Hodges  and  Burton  witnessed  all  his  papers,  half 
the  time  without  knowing  what  they  were  about. 
They  would  hardly  have  thought  of  this  particu 
lar  one  after  his  death.  And  it  isn't  quite  the 
same  will  as  the  other;  it  leaves  you  practically 
everything,  but  it  doesn't  appoint  any  trustees, 
as  the  other  did,  because  this  will  was  drawn  up 
after  you  were  of  age.  Moreover,  it  contains 
these  four  bequests  to  colleges,  to  establish  a 
Woods  chair  of  ethnology,  which  the  other  will 
didn't  provide  for.  Of  course,  it  would  have  been 
simpler  merely  to  add  a  codicil  to  the  first  will, 
but  Uncle  Fred  was  always  very  methodical. 
I — I  think  he  was  probably  going  through  the 
desk  the  night  he  died,  destroying  various  papers. 
He  must  have  taken  the  other  will  out  to  destroy 
it  just — just  before  he  died.  Perhaps — per 
haps "  Billy  paused  for  a  little  and  then 

laughed,  unmirthfully.  "It  scarcely  matters," 
said  he.  "  Here  is  the  will.  It  is  undoubtedly 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  101 

genuine  and  undoubtedly  the  last  he  made.  You'll 
have  to  have  it  probated,  Peggy,  and  settle  with 
the  colleges.  It — it  won't  make  much  of  a  hole 
in  the  Woods  millions." 

There  was  a  half-humorous  bitterness  in  his 
voice  that  Margaret  noted  silently.  So  (she 
thought)  he  had  hoped  for  a  moment  that  at  the 
last  Frederick  R.  Woods  had  relented  toward 
him.  It  grieved  her,  in  a  dull  fashion,  to  see  him 
so  mercenary.  It  grieved  her — though  she  would 
have  denied  it  emphatically — to  see  him  so  disap 
pointed.  Since  he  wanted  the  money  so  much, 
she  would  have  liked  for  him  to  have  had  it, 
worthless  as  he  was,  for  the  sake  of  the  boy  he 
had  been. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  coldly,  as  she  took  the 
paper;  "I  will  give  it  to  my  father.  He  will  do 
what  is  necessary.  Good-night,  Mr.  Woods." 

Then  she  locked  up  the  desk  in  a  businesslike 
fashion  and  turned  to  him,  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

"Good-night,  Billy,"  said  this  perfectly  incon 
sistent  young  woman.  "  For  a  moment  I  thought 
Uncle  Fred  had  altered  his  will  in  your  favour. 
I  almost  wish  he  had." 

Billy  smiled  a  little. 

"That    would    never    have    done,"    he    said, 


102  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

gravely,  as  he  shook  hands;  "you  forget  what  a 
sordid,  and  heartless,  and  generally  good-for- 
nothing  chap  I  am,  Peggy.  It's  much  better  as 
it  is." 

Only  the  tiniest,  the  flimsiest  fiction,  her  eyes 
craved  of  him.  Even  now,  at  the  eleventh  hour, 
lie  to  me,  Billy  Woods,  and,  oh,  how  gladly  I  will 
believe ! 

But  he  merely  said  "Good-night,  Peggy,"  and 
went  out  of  the  room.  His  broad  shoulders  had 
a  pathetic  droop,  a  listlessness. 

Margaret  was  glad.  Of  course,  she  was  glad. 
At  last,  she  had  told  him  exactly  what  she  thought 
of  him.  Why  shouldn't  she  be  glad?  She  was 
delighted. 

So,  by  way  of  expressing  this  delight,  she  sat 
down  at  the  desk  and  began  to  cry  very  softly. 


XIII 

HAVING  duly  considered  the  emptiness  of  ex 
istence,  the  un worthiness  of  men,  the  dreary 
future  that  awaited  her — though  this  did  not 
trouble  her  greatly,  as  she  confidently  expected  to 
die  soon — and  many  other  such  dolorous  topics, 
Miss  Hugonin  decided  to  retire  for  the  night. 
She  rose,  filled  with  speculations  as  to  the  paltri 
ness  of  life  and  the  probability  of  her  eyes  being 
red  in  the  morning. 

"  It  will  be  all  his  fault  if  they  are,"  she  consoled 
herself.  "  Doubtless  he'll  be  very  much  pleased. 
After  robbing  me  of  all  faith  in  humanity,  I  dare 
say  the  one  thing  needed  to  complete  his  happiness 
is  to  make  me  look  like  a  fright.  I  hate  him ! 
After  making  me  miserable,  now,  I  suppose  he'll 
go  off  and  make  some  other  woman  miserable. 
Oh,  of  course,  he'll  make  love  to  the  first  woman 
he  meets  who  has  any  money.  I'm  sure  she's 
welcome  to  him.  I  only  pity  any  woman  who 
has  to  put  up  with  him.  No,  I  don't," 
Margaret  decided,  after  reflection;  "I  hate  her, 
too!" 

103 


104  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Miss  Hugonin  went  to  the  door  leading  to  the 
hallway  and  paused.  Then — I  grieve  to  relate 
it — she  shook  a  little  pink-tipped  fist  in  the 
air. 

"I  detest  you!"  she  commented,  between  her 
teeth ;  "  oh,  how  dare  you  make  me  feel  so  ashamed 
of  the  way  I've  treated  you  ! " 

The  query — as  possibly  you  may  have  divined 
— was  addressed  to  Mr.  Woods.  He  was  standing 
by  the  fireplace  in  the  hallway,  and  his  tall 
figure  was  outlined  sharply  against  the  flame  of 
the  gas-logs  that  burned  there.  His  shoulders 
had  a  pathetic  droop,  a  listlessness. 

Billy  was  reading  a  paper  of  some  kind  by  the 
firelight,  and  the  black  outline  of  his  face  smiled 
grimly  over  it.  Then  he  laughed  and  threw  it 
into  the  fire. 

"Billy!"  a  voice  observed — a  voice  that  was 
honey  and  gold  and  velvet  and  all  that  is  most 
sweet  and  rich  and  soft  in  the  world. 

Mr.  Woods  was  aware  of  a  light  step,  a  swishing, 
sibilant,  delightful  rustling — the  caress  of  sound 
is  the  rustling  of  a  well-groomed  woman's  skirts — 
and  of  an  afterthought  of  violets,  of  a  mere 
reminiscence  of  orris,  all  of  which  came  toward 
him  through  the  dimness  of  the  hall.  He  started, 
noticeably. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  105 

"Billy,"  Miss  Hugonin  stated,  "I'm  sorry  for 
what  I  said  to  you.  I'm  not  sure  it  isn't  true, 
you  know,  but  I'm  sorry  I  said  it." 

"Bless  your  heart!"  said  Billy;  "don't  you 
worry  over  that,  Peggy.  That's  all  right.  Inci 
dentally,  the  things  you've  said  to  me  and  about 
me  aren't  true,  of  course,  but  we  won't  discuss 
that  just  now.  I — I  fancy  we're  both  feeling  a 
bit  fagged.  Go  to  bed,  Peggy  !  We'll  both  go  to 
bed,  and  the  night  will  bring  counsel,  and  we'll 
sleep  off  all  unkindliness.  Go  to  bed,  little  sister  ! 
— get  all  the  beauty-sleep  you  aren't  in  the  least 
in  need  of,  and  dream  of  how  happy  you're  going 
to  be  with  the  man  you  love.  And — and  in  the 
morning  I  may  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
Good-night,  dear." 

And  this  time  he  really  went.  And  when  he 
had  come  to  the  bend  in  the  stairs  his  eyes  turned 
back  to  hers,  slowly  and  irresistibly,  drawn  toward 
them,  as  it  seemed,  just  as  the  sunflower  is  drawn 
toward  the  sun,  or  the  needle  toward  the  pole,  or, 
in  fine,  as  the  eyes  of  young  gentlemen  ordinarily 
are  drawn  toward  the  eyes  of  the  one  woman  in 
the  world.  Then  he  disappeared. 

The  mummery  of  it  vexed  Margaret.  There 
was  no  excuse  for  his  looking  at  her  in  that  way. 
It  irritated  her.  She  was  almost  as  angry  with 


106  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

him  for  doing  it  as  she  would  have  been  for  not 
doing  it. 

Therefore,  she  bent  an  angry  face  toward  the 
fire,  her  mouth  pouting  in  a  rather  inviting 
fashion.  Then  it  rounded  slowly  into  a  sanguine 
O,  which  of  itself  suggested  osculation,  but  in 
reality  stood  for  " observe!"  For  the  paper 
Billy  had  thrown  into  the  fire  had  fallen  under  the 
gas-logs,  and  she  remembered  his  guilty  start. 

"After  all,"  said  Margaret,  "it's  none  of  my 
business." 

So  she  eyed  it  wistfully. 

"It  may  be  important,"  she  considerately 
remembered.  "It  ought  not  to  be  left  there." 

So  she  fished  it  out  with  a  big  paper-cutter. 

"  But  it  can't  be  very  important,"  she  dissented 
afterward,  "  or  he  wouldn't  have  thrown  it  away." 

So  she  looked  at  the  superscripture  on  the  back 
of  it. 

Then  she  gave  a  little  gasp  and  tore  it  open  and 
read  it  by  the  firelight. 

Miss  Hugonin  subsequently  took  credit  to  her 
self  for  not  going  into  hysterics.  And  I  think 
she  had  some  reason  to ;  for  she  found  the  paper  a 
duplicate  of  the  one  Billy  had  taken  out  of  the 
secret  drawer,  with  his  name  set  in  the  place  of 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  107 

hers.  At  the  last  Frederick  R.  Woods  had  re 
lented  toward  his  nephew. 

Margaret  laughed  a  little;  then  she  cried  a 
little;  then  she  did  both  together.  Afterward 
she  sat  in  the  firelight,  very  puzzled  and  very 
excited  and  very  penitent  and  very  beautiful, 
and  was  happier  than  she  had  ever  been  in 
her  life. 

"He  had  it  in  his  pocket,"  her  dear  voice 
quavered;  "he  had  it  in  his  pocket,  my  brave, 
strong,  beautiful  Billy  did,  when  he  asked  me  to 
marry  him.  It  was  King  Cophetua  wooing  the 
beggar-maid — and  the  beggar  was  an  impudent, 
ungrateful,  idiotic  little  piece  I "  Margaret  hissed, 
in  her  most  shrewish  manner.  "She  ought  to  be 
spanked.  She  ought  to  go  down  on  her  knees 
to  him  in  sackcloth,  and  tears,  and  ashes,  and  all 
sorts  of  penitential  things.  She  will,  too.  Oh,  it's 
such  a  beautiful  world — such  a  beautiful  world ! 
Billy  loves  me  —  really!  Billy's  a  millionaire, 
and  I'm  a  pauper.  Oh,  I'm  glad,  glad, 
glad!" 

She  caressed  the  paper  that  had  rendered  the 
world  such  a  goodly  place  to  live  in — caressed  it 
tenderly  and  rubbed  her  check  against  it.  That 
was  Margaret's  way  of  showing  affection,  you 
know;  and  I  protest  it  must  have  been  very 


io8  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

pleasant  for  the  paper.  The  only  wonder  was 
that  the  ink  it  was  written  in  didn't  turn  red 
with  delight. 

Then  she  read  it  through  again,  for  sheer  en 
joyment  of  those  beautiful,  incomprehensible 
words  that  disinherited  her.  How  lovely  of 
Uncle  Fred !  she  thought.  Of  course,  he'd  for 
given  Billy;  who  wouldn't?  What  beautiful 
language  Uncle  Fred  used !  quite  prayer-booky, 
she  termed  it.  Then  she  gasped. 

The  will  in  Billy's  favour  was  dated  a  week 
earlier  than  the  one  they  had  found  in  the  secret 
drawer.  It  was  worthless,  mere  waste  paper. 
At  the  last  Frederick  R.  Woods's  pride  had  con 
quered  his  love. 

"Oh,  the  horrid  old  man!"  Margaret  wailed; 
"he's  left  me  everything  he  had!  How  dare  he 
disinherit  Billy !  I  call  it  rank  impertinence  in 
him.  Oh,  boy  dear,  dear,  dear  boy!"  Miss 
Hugonin  crooned,  in  an  ecstacy  of  tenderness  and 
woe.  "  He  found  this  first  will  in  one  of  the  other 
drawers,  and  thought  he  was  the  rich  one,  and 
came  in  a  great  whirl  of  joy  to  ask  me  to  marry 
him,  and  I  was  horrid  to  him !  Oh,  what  a  mess 
I've  made  of  it !  I've  called  him  a  fortune- 
hunter,  and  I've  told  him  I  love  another  man,  and 
he'll  never,  never  ask  me  to  marry  him  now. 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  109 

And  I  love  him,  I  worship  him,  I  adore  him ! 
And  if  only  I  were  poor " 

Ensued  a  silence.  Margaret  lifted  the  two  wills, 
scrutinised  them  closely,  and  then  looked  at  the 
fire,  interrogatively. 

"It's  penal  servitude  for  quite  a  number  of 
years,"  she  said.  "  But,  then,  he  really  couldn't 
tell  any  one,  you  know.  No  gentleman  would 
allow  a  lady  to  be  locked  up  in  jail.  And  if  he 
knew — if  he  knew  I  didn't  and  couldn't  con 
sider  him  a  fortune-hunter,  I  really  believe  he 
would " 

Whatever  she  believed  he  would  do,  the  proba 
bility  of  his  doing  it  seemed  highly  agreeable  to 
Miss  Hugonin.  She  smiled  at  the  fire  in  the  most 
friendly  fashion,  and  held  out  one  of  the  folded 
papers  to  it. 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret,  "  I'm  quite  sure  he  will." 

There  I  think  we  may  leave  her.  For  I  have 
dredged  the  dictionary,  and  I  confess  I  have 
found  no  fitting  words  wherewith  to  picture  this 
inconsistent,  impulsive,  adorable  young  woman, 
dreaming  brave  dreams  in  the  firelight  of  her 
lover  and  of  their  united  future.  I  should  only 
bungle  it.  You  must  imagine  it  for  yourself. 

It   is   a   pretty  picture,   is   it  not? — with   its 


no  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

laughable  side,  perhaps ;  under  the  circumstances, 
whimsical,  if  you  will;  but  very,  very  sacred. 
For  she  loved  him  with  a  clean  heart,  loved  him 
infinitely. 

Let  us  smile  at  it — tenderly — and  pass  on. 

But  upon  my  word,  when  I  think  of  how  un 
reasonably,  how  outrageously  Margaret  had  be 
haved  during  the  entire  evening,  I  am  tempted 
to  depose  her  as  our  heroine.  I  begin  to  regret  I 
had  not  selected  Adele  Haggage. 

She  would  have  done  admirably.  For,  depend 
upon  it,  she,  too,  had  her  trepidations,  her  white 
nights,  her  occult  battles  over  Hugh  Van  Orden. 
Also,  she  was  a  pretty  girl — if  you  care  for 
brunettes — and  accomplished.  She  was  versed 
in  I  forget  how  many  foreign  languages,  both 
Continental  and  dead,  and  could  discourse  sensibly 
in  any  one  of  them.  She  was  perfectly  reasonable, 
perfectly  consistent,  perfectly  unimpulsive,  and 
never  expressed  an  opinion  that  was  not  counte 
nanced  by  at  least  two  competent  authorities. 
I  don't  know  a  man  living,  prepared  to  dispute 
that  Miss  Haggage  excelled  Miss  Hugonin  in  all 
these  desirable  qualities. 

Yet  with  pleasing  unanimity  they  went  mad 
for  Margaret  and  had  the  greatest  possible  respect 
for  Adele. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  in 

And,  my  dear  Mrs.  Grundy,  I  grant  you  cheer 
fully  that  this  was  all  wrong.  A  sensible  man, 
as  you  very  justly  observe,  will  seek  in  a  woman 
something  more  enduring  than  mere  personal 
attractions;  he  will  value  her  for  some  sensible 
reason — say,  for  her  wit,  or  her  learning,  or  her 
skill  in  cookery,  or  her  proficiency  in  Greek.  A 
sensible  man  will  look  for  a  sensible  woman;  he 
will  not  concern  his  sensible  head  over  such 
trumperies  as  a  pair  of  bright  eyes,  or  a  red  lip  or 
so,  or  a  satisfactory  suit  of  hair.  These  are 
fleeting  vanities. 

However 

You  have  doubtless  heard  ere  this,  my  dear 
madam,  that  had  Cleopatra's  nose  been  an  inch 
shorter  the  destiny  of  the  world  would  have  been 
changed ;  had  she  been  the  woman  you  describe — 
perfectly  reasonable,  perfectly  consistent,  per 
fectly  sensible  in  all  she  said  and  did — confess, 
dear  lady,  wouldn't  Antony  have  taken  to  his 
heels  and  have  fled  from  such  a  monster  ? 


XIV 

I  REGRET  to  admit  that  Mr.  Woods  did  not 
toss  feverishly  about  his  bed  all  through  the 
silent  watches  of  the  night.  He  was  very  miser 
able,  but  he  was  also  twenty-six.  That  is  an  age 
when  the  blind  bow-god  deals  no  fatal  wounds. 
It  is  an  age  to  suffer  poignantly,  if  you  will;  an 
age  wherein  to  aspire  to  the  dearest  woman  on 
earth,  to  write  her  halting  verses,  to  lose  her,  to 
affect  the  cliches  of  cynicism,  to  hear  the  chimes 
at  midnight — and  after  it  all,  to  sleep  like  a  top. 

So  Billy  slept.  And  kind  Hypnos  loosed  a 
dream  through  the  gates  of  ivory  that  lifted  him 
to  a  delectable  land  where  Peggy  was  nineteen, 
and  had  never  heard  of  Kennaston,  and  was 
unbelievably  sweet  and  dear  and  beautiful.  But 
presently  they  and  the  Colonel  put  forth  to  sea — 
on  a  great  carved  writing-desk — fishing  for  sharks, 
which  the  Colonel  said  were  very  plentiful  in  those 
waters;  and  Frederick  R.  Woods  climbed  up  out 
of  the  sea,  and  said  Billy  was  a  fool  and  must  go 
to  college ;  and  Peggy  said  that  was  impossible,  as 
seventeen  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  children 

112 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  113 

had  to  be  given  an  education  apiece,  and  they 
couldn't  spare  one  for  Billy;  and  a  missionary 
from  Zambesi  Land  came  out  of  one  of  the  secret 
drawers  and  said  Billy  must  give  him  both  of 
his  feet  as  he  needed  them  for  his  working-girls' 
classes;  and  thereupon  the  sharks  poked  their 
heads  out  of  the  water  and  began,  in  a  deafening 
chorus,  to  cry,  "  Feet,  feet,  feet ! "  And  Billy  then 
woke  with  a  start,  and  found  it  was  only  the 
birds  chattering  in  the  dawn  outside. 

Then  he  was  miserable. 

He  tossed,  and  groaned,  and  dozed,  and  smoked 
cigarettes  until  he  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He 
got  up  and  dressed,  in  sheer  desperation,  and  went 
for  a  walk  in  the  gardens. 

The  day  was  clear  as  a  new-minted  coin.  It 
was  not  yet  wholly  aired,  not  wholly  free  from 
the  damp  savour  of  night,  but  low  in  the  east  the 
sun  was  taking  heart.  A  mile -long  shadow  footed 
it  with  Billy  Woods  in  his  pacings  through  the 
amber-chequered  gardens.  Actaeon-like,  he  sur 
prised  the  world  at  its  toilet,  and  its  fleeting  grace 
somewhat  fortified  his  spirits. 

But  his  thoughts  pestered  him  like  gnats.  The 
things  he  said  to  the  roses  it  is  not  necessary  to 
set  down. 


XV 


AFTER  a  vituperative  half -hour  or  so  Mr.  Woods 
was  hungry.  He  came  back  toward  Selwoode; 
and  upon  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  house  he 
found  Kathleen  Saumarez. 

During  the  warm  weather,  one  corner  of  the 
terrace  had  been  converted,  by  means  of  gay  red- 
and- white  awnings,  into  a  sort  of  living-room. 
There  were  chairs,  tables,  sofa-cushions,  bowls 
of  roses,  and  any  number  of  bright-coloured  rugs. 
Altogether,  it  was  a  cosy  place,  and  the  glowing 
hues  of  its  furnishings  were  very  becoming  to  Mrs. 
Saumarez,  who  sat  there  writing  industriously. 

It  was  a  thought  embarrassing.  They  had 
avoided  one  another  yesterday — rather  obviously 
— both  striving  to  put  off  a  necessarily  awkward 
meeting.  Now  it  had  come.  And  now,  somehow, 
their  eyes  met  for  a  moment,  and  they  laughed 
frankly,  and  the  awkwardness  was  gone. 

"Kathleen,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  with  conviction, 
"you're  a  dear." 

"You  broke  my  heart,"  said  she,  demurely, 
"but  I'm  going  to  forgive  you." 

114 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  115 

Mrs.  Saumarez  was  not  striving  to  be  clever 
now.  And,  heavens  (thought  Billy);  how  much 
nicer  she  was  like  this !  It  wasn't  the  same 
woman :  her  thin  cheeks  flushed  arbutus-like,  and 
her  rather  metallic  voice  was  grown  low  and 
gentle.  Billy  brought  memories  with  him,  you 
see ;  and  for  the  moment,  she  was  Kathleen  Eppes 
again — Kathleen  Eppes  in  the  first  flush  of  youth, 
eager,  trustful,  and  joyous-hearted,  as  he  had 
known  her  long  ago.  Since  then,  the  poor  woman 
had  eaten  of  the  bread  of  dependence  and  had 
found  it  salt  enough;  she  had  paid  for  it  daily, 
enduring  a  thousand  petty  slights,  a  thousand 
petty  insults,  and  smiling  under  them  as  only 
women  can.  But  she  had  forgotten  now  that 
shrewd  Kathleen  Saumarez  who  must  earn  her 
livelihood  as  best  she  might.  She  smiled  frankly 
— a  purely  unprofessional  smile. 

"I  was  sorry  when  I  heard  you  were  coming," 
she  said,  irrelevantly,  "but  I'm  glad  now." 

Mr.  Woods — I  grieve  to  relate — was  still  holding 
her  hand  in  his.  There  stirred  in  his  pulses  the 
thrill  Kathleen  Eppes  had  always  wakened — a 
thrill  of  memory  now,  a  mere  wraith  of  emotion. 
He  was  thinking  of  a  certain  pink-cheeked  girl 
with  crinkly  black-brown  hair  and  eyes  that  he 
had  likened  to  chrysoberyls — and  he  wondered 


ii6  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

whimsically  what  had  become  of  her.  This  was 
not  she.  This  was  assuredly  not  Kathleen,  for 
this  woman  had  a  large  mouth — a  humorous  and 
kindly  mouth  it  was  true,  but  undeniably  a  large 
one — whereas,  Kathleen's  mouth  had  been  quite 
perfect  and  rather  diminutive  than  otherwise. 
Hadn't  he  rhymed  of  it  often  enough  to  know? 
They  stood  gazing  at  one  another  for  a  long 
time ;  and  in  the  back  of  Billy's  brain  lines  of  his 
old  verses  sang  themselves  to  a  sad  little  tune — 
the  verses  that  reproved  the  idiocy  of  all  other 
poets,  who  had  very  foolishly  written  their 
sonnets  to  other  women:  and  yet,  as  the  jingle 
pointed  out, 

Had  these  poets  ever  strayed 
In  thy  path,  they  had  not  made 
Random  rhymes  of  Arabella, 
Songs  of  Dolly,  hymns  of  Stella, 
Lays  of  Lalage  or  Chloris — 
Not  of  Daphne  nor  of  Doris, 
Florimel  nor  Amaryllis, 
Nor  of  Phyllida  nor  Phyllis, 
Were  their  wanton  melodies: 
But  all  of  these — 
All  their  melodies  had  been 
Of  thee,  Kathleen. 

Would  they  have  been?  Billy  thought  it  im 
probable.  The  verses  were  very  silly;  and,  re 
calling  the  big,  blundering  boy  who  had  written 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  117 

them,  Billy  began  to  wonder — somewhat  forlornly 
— whither  he,  too,  had  vanished.  He  and  the 
girl  he  had  gone  mad  for  both  seemed  rather 
mythical — legendary  as  King  Pepin. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Saumarez — and  oh,  she 
startled  him;  "I  fancy  they're  both  quite  dead 
by  now.  Billy,"  she  cried,  earnestly,  "don't 
laugh  at  them  ! — don't  laugh  at  those  dear,  foolish 
children !  I — somehow,  I  couldn't  bear  that, 
Billy." 

"Kathleen,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  in  admiration, 
"  you're  a  witch.  I  wasn't  laughing,  though,  my 
dear.  I  was  developing  quite  a  twilight  mood 
over  them — a  plaintive,  old-lettery  sort  of  mood, 
you  know." 

She  sighed  a  little.  "Yes— I  know."  Then 
her  eyelids  flickered  in  a  parody  of  Kathleen's 
glance  that  Billy  noted  with  a  queer  tenderness. 
"Come  and  talk  to  me,  Billy,"  she  commanded. 
"I'm  an  early  bird  this  morning,  and  entitled  to 
the  very  biggest  and  best-looking  worm  I  can 
find.  You're  only  a  worm,  you  know — we're  all 
worms.  Mr.  Jukesbury  told  me  so  last  night, 
making  an  exception  in  my  favour,  for  it  appears 
I'm  an  angel.  He  was  amorously  inclined  last 
night,  the  tipsy  old  fraud  !  It's  shameless,  Billy, 
the  amount  of  money  he  gets  out  of  Miss  Hugonin 


ii8  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

— for  the  deserving  poor.  Do  you  know,  I  rather 
fancy  he  classes  himself  under  that  head?  And 
I  grant  you  he's  poor  enough — but  deserving!" 
Mrs.  Saumarez  snapped  her  fingers  eloquently. 

"Eh?  Shark,  eh?"  queried  Mr.  Woods,  in 
some  discomfort. 

She  nodded.  "  He  is  as  bad  as  Sarah  Haggage," 
she  informed  him,  "and  everybody  knows  what 
a  bloodsucker  she  is.  The  Haggage  is  a  disease, 
Billy,  that  all  rich  women  are  exposed  to — '  more 
easily  caught  than  the  pestilence,  and  the  taker 
runs  presently  mad.'  Depend  upon  it,  Billy, 
those  two  will  have  every  penny  they  can  get  out 
of  your  uncle's  money." 

"Peggy's  so  generous,"  he  pleaded.  "She 
wants  to  make  everybody  happy — bring  about 
a  general  millenium,  you  know." 

"She  pays  dearly  enough  for  her  fancies,"  said 
Mrs.  Saumarez,  in  a  hard  voice.  Then,  after  a 
little,  she  cried,  suddenly:  "Oh,  Billy,  Billy,  it 
shames  me  to  think  of  how  we  lie  to  her,  and  toady 
to  her,  and  lead  her  on  from  one  mad  scheme  to 
another ! — all  for  the  sake  of  the  money  we  can 
pilfer  incidentally !  We're  all  arrant  hypocrites, 
you  know;  I'm  no  better  than  the  others,  Billy — 
not  a  bit  better.  But  my  husband  left  me  so 
poor,  and  I  had  always  been  accustomed  to  the 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  119 

pretty  things  of  life,  and  I  couldn't — I  couldn't 
give  them  up,  Billy.  I  love  them  too  dearly.  So 
I  lie,  and  toady,  and  write  drivelling  talks  about 
things  I  don't  understand,  for  drivelling  women 
to  listen  to,  and  I  still  have  the  creature  comforts 
of  life.  I  pawn  my  self-respect  for  them — that's 
all.  Such  a  little  price  to  pay,  isn't  it,  Billy?" 

She  spoke  in  a  sort  of  frenzy.  I  dare  say 
that  at  the  outset  she  wanted  Mr.  Woods 
to  know  the  worst  of  her,  knowing  he  could 
not  fail  to  discover  it  in  time.  Billy  brought 
memories  with  him,  you  see;  and  this  shrewd, 
hard  woman  wanted,  somehow,  more  than  any 
thing  else  in  the  world,  that  he  should  think 
well  of  her.  So  she  babbled  out  the  whole 
pitiful  story,  waiting  in  a  kind  of  terror  to  see 
contempt  and  disgust  awaken  in  his  eyes. 

But  he  merely  said  "  I  see — I  see,"  very  slowly, 
and  his  eyes  were  kindly.  He  couldn't  be  angry 
with  her,  somehow;  that  pink-cheeked,  crinkly 
haired  girl  stood  between  them  and  shielded  her. 
He  was  only  very,  very  sorry. 

"And  Kennaston?"  he  asked,  after  a  little. 

Mrs.  Saumarez  flushed.  "Mr.  Kennaston  is  a 
man  of  great  genius,"  she  said,  quickly.  "Of 
course,  Miss  Hugonin  is  glad  to  assist  him  in 
publishing  his  books — it's  an  honour  to  her  that 


120  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

he  permits  it.  They  have  to  be  published 
privately,  you  know,  as  the  general  public  isn't 
capable  of  appreciating  such  dainty  little  master 
pieces.  Oh,  don't  make  any  mistake,  Billy — 
Mr.  Kennaston  is  a  very  wonderful  and  very 
admirable  man." 

" H'm,  yes;  he  struck  me  as  being  an  unusually 
nice  chap,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  untruthfully.  "I 
dare  say  they'll  be  very  happy." 

"Who?"  Mrs.  Saumarez  demanded. 

"Why — er — I  don't  suppose  they'll  make  any 
secret  of  it,"  Billy  stammered,  in  tardy  repentance 
of  his  hasty  speaking.  "  Peggy  told  me  last  night 
she  had  accepted  him." 

Mrs.  Saumarez  turned  to  rearrange  a  bowl  of 
roses.  She  seemed  to  have  some  difficulty  over 
it. 

"Billy,"  she  spoke,  inconsequent ly,  and  with 
averted  head,  "  an  honest  man  is  the  noblest  work 
of  God — and  the  rarest." 

Billy  groaned. 

" Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "I've  just  been  telling 
the  roses  in  the  gardens  yonder  the  same  thing 
about  women?  I'm  a  misogynist  this  morning. 
I've  decided  no  woman  is  worthy  of  being  loved." 

"That  is  quite  true,"  she  assented,  "but,  on  the 
other  hand,  no  man  is  worthy  of  loving." 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  121 

Billy  smiled. 

"  I've  likewise  come  to  the  conclusion,"  said  he, 
"that  a  man's  love  is  like  his  hat,  in  that  any  peg 
will  do  to  hang  it  on ;  also,  in  that  the  proper  and 
best  place  for  it  is  on  his  own  head.  Oh,  I  assure 
you,  I  vented  any  number  of  cheap  cynicisms  on 
the  helpless  roses !  And  yet — will  you  believe 
it,  Kathleen? — it  doesn't  seem  to  make  me  feel 
a  bit  better — no,  not  a  bit." 

"It's  very  like  his  hat,"  she  declared,  "in  that 
he  has  a  new  one  every  year."  Then  she  rested 
her  hand  on  his,  in  a  half -maternal  fashion. 
"What's  the  matter,  boy?"  she  asked,  softly. 
"  You're  always  so  fresh  and  wholesome.  I  don't 
like  to  see  you  like  this.  Better  leave  phrase- 
making  to  us  phrase-mongers." 

Her  voice  rang  true — true,  and  compassionate, 
and  tender,  and  all  that  a  woman's  voice  should 
be.  Billy  could  not  but  trust  her. 

"I've  been  an  ass,"  said  he,  rather  tragically. 
"  Oh,  not  an  unusual  ass,  Kathleen — just  the  sort 
men  are  always  making  of  themselves.  You  see, 
before  I  went  to  France,  there  was  a  girl  I — cared 
for.  And  I  let  a  quarrel  come  between  us — a 
foolish,  trifling,  idle  little  quarrel,  Kathleen,  that 
we  might  have  made  up  in  a  half -hour.  But  I 
was  too  proud,  you  see.  No,  I  wasn't  proud, 


122  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

either,"  Mr.  Woods  amended,  bitterly;  "I  was 
simply  pig-headed  and  mulish.  So  I  went  away. 
And  yesterday  I  saw  her  again  and  realised  that 
I — still  cared.  That's  all,  Kathleen.  It  isn't  an 
unusual  story."  And  Mr.  Woods  laughed,  mirth 
lessly,  and  took  a  turn  on  the  terrace. 

Mrs.  Saumarez  was  regarding  him  intently. 
Her  cheeks  were  of  a  deeper,  more  attractive  pink, 
and  her  breath  came  and  went  quickly. 

"I — I  don't  understand,"  she  said,  in  a  rather 
queer  voice. 

"Oh,  it's  simple  enough,"  Billy  assured  her. 
"You  see,  she — well,  I  think  she  would  have 
married  me  once.  Yes,  she  cared  for  me  once. 
And  I  quarreled  with  her — I,  conceited  young  ass 
that  I  was,  actually  presumed  to  dictate  to  the 
dearest,  sweetest,  most  lovable  woman  on  earth, 
and  tell  her  what  she  must  do  and  what  she 
mustn't.  I ! — good  Lord,  I,  who  wasn't  worthy 
to  sweep  a  crossing  clean  for  her! — who  wasn't 
worthy  to  breathe  the  same  air  with  her ! — who 
wasn't  worthy  to  exist  in  the  same  world  she 
honoured  by  living  in  !  Oh,  I  was  an  ass  !  But 
I've  paid  for  it ! — oh,  yes,  Kathleen,  I've  paid 
dearly  for  it,  and  I'll  pay  more  dearly  yet  before 
I've  done.  I  tried  to  avoid  her  yesterday — you 
must  have  seen  that.  And  I  couldn't — I  give 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  123 

you  my  word,  I  could  no  more  have  kept  away 
from  her  than  I  could  have  spread  a  pair  of  wings 
and  flown  away.  She  doesn't  care  a  bit  for  me 
now;  but  I  can  no  more  give  up  loving  her  than 
I  can  give  up  eating  my  dinner.  That  isn't  a 
pretty  simile,  Kathleen,  but  it  expresses  the  way 
I  feel  toward  her.  It  isn't  merely  that  I  want 
her;  it's  more  than  that — oh,  far  more  than  that. 
I  simply  can't  do  without  her.  Don't  you  under 
stand,  Kathleen?"  he  asked,  desperately. 

"Yes — I  think  I  understand,"  she  said,  when 
he  had  ended.  "  I — oh,  Billy,  I  am  almost 
sorry.  It's  dear  of  you — dear  of  you,  Billy, 
to  care  for  me  still,  but — but  I'm  almost  sorry 
you  care  so  much.  I'm  not  worth  it,  boy  dear. 
And  I — I  really  don't  know  what  to  say.  You 
must  let  me  think." 

Mr.  Woods  gave  an  inarticulate  sound.  The 
face  she  turned  to  him  was  perplexed,  half-sad, 
fond,  a  little  pleased,  and  strangely  compassionate. 
It  was  Kathleen  Eppes  who  sat  beside  him;  the 
six  years  were  as  utterly  forgotten  as  the  name  of 
Magdalen's  first  lover.  She  was  a  girl  again, 
listening — with  a  heart  that  fluttered,  I  dare  say — 
to  the  wild  talk,  the  mad  dithyrambics  of  a  big, 
blundering  boy. 

The  ludicrous  horror  of  it  stunned  Mr.  Woods. 


124  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

He  could  no  more  have  told  her  of  her  mistake 
than  he  could  have  struck  her  in  the  face. 

" Kathleen—  -!"  said  he,  vaguely. 

"Let  me  think  !— ah,  let  me  think,  Billy  !"  she 
pleaded,  in  a  flutter  of  joy  and  amazement.  "  Go 
away,  boy  dear  ! — Go  away  for  a  little  and  let  me 
think !  I'm  not  an  emotional  woman,  but  I'm 
on  the  verge  of  hysterics  now,  for — for  several 
reasons.  Go  in  to  breakfast,  Billy !  I — I  want 
to  be  alone.  You've  made  me  very  proud  and — 
and  sorry,  I  think,  and  glad,  and — and — oh,  I 
don't  know,  boy  dear.  But  please  go  now — 
please !" 

Billy  went. 

In  the  living-hall  he  paused  to  inspect  a  picture 
with  peculiar  interest.  Since  Kathleen  cared  for 
him  (he  thought,  rather  forlornly),  he  must 
perjure  himself  in  as  plausible  a  manner  as  might 
be  possible;  please  God,  having  done  what  he 
had  done,  he  would  lie  to  her  like  a  gentleman  and 
try  to  make  her  happy. 

A  vision  in  incredible  violet  ruffles,  coming  down 
to  breakfast,  saw  him,  and  paused  on  the  stair 
way,  and  flushed  and  laughed  deliciously. 

Poor  Billy  stared  at  her;  and  his  heart  gave  a 
great  bound  and  then  appeared  to  stop  for  an 
indefinite  time. 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  125 

"Good  Lord!"  said  Mr.  Woods,  in  his  soul. 
"And  I  thought  I  was  an  ass  last  night !  Why, 
last  night,  in  comparison,  I  displayed  intelligence 
that  was  almost  human  !  Oh,  Peggy,  Peggy !  if 
I  only  dared  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you,  I  believe 
I  would  gladly  die  afterward — yes,  I'm  sure  I 
would.  You  really  haven't  any  right  to  be  so 
beautiful ! — it  isn't  fair  to  us,  Peggy  !" 

But  the  vision  was  peeping  over  the  bannisters 
at  him,  and  the  vision's  eyes  were  sparkling  with 
a  lucent  mischief  and  a  wonderful,  half-hushed 
contralto  was  demanding  of  him : 

"Oh,  where  have  you  been,  Billy  boy,  Billy  boy  ? 
Oh,  where  have  you  been,  charming  Billy?" 

And  Billy's  baritone  answered  her : 

"I've  been  to  seek  a  wife " 

and  broke  off  in  a  groan. 

"Good  Lord !"  said  Mr.  Woods. 

It  was  a  ludicruous  business,  if  you  will. 
Indeed,  it  was  vastly  humorous — was  it  not? — 
this  woman's  thinking  a  man's  love  might  by  any 
chance  endure  through  six  whole  years.  But 
their  love  endures,  you  see ;  and  the  silly  creatures 
have  a  superstition  among  them  that  love  is  a 
sacred  thing,  stronger  than  time,  victorious  over 


126  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

death  itself.  Let  us  laugh,  then,  at  Kathleen 
Saumarez — those  of  us  who  have  learned  that  love 
is  only  a  tinkling  cymbal  and  faith  a  sounding 
brass  and  fidelity  an  obsolete  affectation:  but  for 
my  part,  I  honour  and  think  better  of  the  woman 
who  through  all  her  struggles  with  the  world — 
through  all  those  sordid,  grim,  merciless,  secret 
battles  where  the  vanquished  may  not  even  cry 
for  succour — I  honour  her,  I  say,  for  that  she  had 
yet  cherished  the  memory  of  that  first  love  which 
is  the  best  and  purest  and  most  unselfish  and 
most  excellent  thing  in  life. 


XVI 

BREAKFAST  Margaret  enjoyed  hugely.  I  regret 
to  confess  that  the  fact  that  every  one  of  her 
guests  was  more  or  less  miserable  moved  this 
hard-hearted  young  woman  to  untimely  and  ex 
cessive  mirth.  Only  Mrs.  Saumarez  puzzled  her, 
for  she  could  think  of  no  reason  for  that  lady's 
manifest  agitation  when  Kathleen  eventually 
joined  the  others. 

But  for  the  rest,  the  hopeless  glances  that  Hugh 
Van  Orden  cast  toward  her  caused  Adele  to  flush, 
and  Mrs.  Haggage  to  become  despondent  and 
speechless  and  astonishingly  rigid ;  and  Petheridge 
Jukesbury's  vaguely  apologetic  attitude  toward 
the  world  struck  Miss  Hugonin  as  infinitely 
diverting.  Kennaston  she  pitied  a  little;  but  his 
bearing  toward  her  ranged  ludicrously  from  that 
of  proprietorship  to  that  of  supplication,  and, 
moreover,  she  was  furious  with  him  for  having 
hinted  at  various  times  that  Billy  was  a  fortune- 
hunter. 

Margaret  was  quite  confident  by  this  that  she 
had  never  believed  him — "not  really,  you  know" 

127 


128  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

— having  argued  the  point  out  at  some  length  the 
night  before,  and  reaching  her  conclusion  by  a 
course  of  reasoning  peculiar  to  herself. 

Mr.  Woods,  as  you  may  readily  conceive,  was 
sunk  in  the  Slough  of  Despond  deeper  than  ever 
plummet  sounded.  Margaret  thought  this  very 
nice  of  him;  it  was  a  delicate  tribute  to  her  that 
he  ate  nothing ;  and  the  fact  that  Hugh  Van  Orden 
and  Petheridge  Jukesbury — as  she  believed — 
acted  in  precisely  the  same  way  for  precisely  the 
same  reason,  merely  demonstrated,  of  course, 
their  overwhelming  conceit  and  presumption. 

So  sitting  in  the  great  Eagle's  shadow,  she  ate 
a  quantity  of  marmalade — she  was  wont  to  begin 
the  day  in  this  ungodly  English  fashion — and 
gossiped  like  a  brook  trotting  over  sunlit  pebbles. 
She  had  planned  a  pulverising  surprise  for  the 
house-party;  and  in  due  time,  she  intended  to 
explode  it,  and  subsequently  Billy  was  to  apologise 
for  his  conduct,  and  then  they  were  to  live  happily 
ever  afterward. 

She  had  not  yet  decided  what  he  was  to  apolo 
gise  for;  that  was  his  affair.  His  conscience 
ought  to  have  told  him,  by  this,  wherein  he  had 
offended;  and  if  his  conscience  hadn't,  why  then, 
of  course,  he  would  have  to  apologise  for  his  lack 
of  proper  sensibility. 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  129 

After  breakfast  she  went,  according  to  her  usual 
custom,  to  her  father's  rooms,  for,  as  I  think  I 
have  told  you,  the  old  gentleman  was  never  visible- 
until  noon.     She  had  astonishing  news  for  him. 

What  time  she  divulged  it,  the  others  sat  on 
the  terrace,  and  Mr.  Kennaston  read  to  them,  as 
he  had  promised,  from  his  "  Defense  of  Ignorance." 
It  proved  a  welcome  diversion  to  more  than  one 
of  the  party.  Mr.  Woods,  especially,  esteemed 
it  a  godsend ;  it  staved  off  misfortune  for  at  least 
a  little;  so  he  sat  at  Kathleen's  side  in  silence, 
trying  desperately  to  be  happy,  trying  desperately 
not  to  see  the  tiny  wrinkles,  the  faint  crow's  feet 
Time  had  sketched  in  her  face  as  a  memorandum 
of  the  work  he  meant  to  do  shortly. 

Billy  consoled  himself  with  the  reflection  that 
he  was  very  fond  of  her;  but,  oh  (he  thought), 
what  worship,  what  adoration  he  could  accord 
this  woman  if  she  would  only  decline — positively 
— to  have  anything  whatever  to  do  with  him  ! 

I  think  we  ought  not  to  miss  hearing  Mr.  Ken- 
naston's  discourse.  It  is  generally  conceded  that 
his  style  is  wonderfully  clever;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  his  detractors — who  complain  that  his 
style  is  mere  word-twisting,  a  mere  inversion  of 
the  most  ancient  truisms — are  actuated  by  the 


130  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

very  basest  jealousy.  Let  us  listen,  then,  and  be 
duly  edified  as  he  reads  in  a  low,  sweet  voice,  and 
the  birds  twitter  about  him  in  the  clear  morning. 

"It  has  been  for  many  years,"  Mr.  Kennaston 
began,  "the  custom  of  patriotic  gentlemen  in 
quest  of  office  to  point  with  pride  to  the  fact  that 
the  schoolmaster  is  abroad  in  the  land,  in  whose 
defense  they  stand  pledged  to  draw  their  salaries 
and  fight  to  the  last  gasp  for  reelection.  These 
lofty  platitudes,  while  trying  to  the  lungs,  doubt 
less  appeal  to  a  certain  class  of  minds.  But, 
indeed,  the  schoolmaster  is  not  abroad;  he  is 
domesticated  in  every  village  in  America,  where 
each  hamlet  has  its  would-be  Shakespeare,  and 
each  would-be  Shakespeare  has  his  'Hamlet'  by 
heart.  Learning  is  rampant  in  the  land,  and 
valuable  information  is  pasted  up  in  the  street 
cars  so  that  he  who  rides  may  read. 

"And  Ignorance — beautiful,  divine  Ignorance 
— is  forsaken  by  a  generation  that  clamours  for 
the  truth.  And  what  value,  pray,  has  this  Truth 
that  we  should  lust  after  it?" 

He  glanced  up,  in  an  inquiring  fashion. 
Mr.  Jukesbury,  meeting  his  eye,  smiled 
and  shook  his  head  and  said  "Fie,  fie!"  very 
placidly. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  131 

To  do  him  justice,  he  had  not  the  least  idea 
what  Kennaston  was  talking  about. 

"I  am  aware,"  the  poet  continued,  with  an  air 
of  generosity,  "that  many  pleasant  things  have 
been  said  of  it.  In  fact,  our  decade  has  turned 
its  back  relentlessly  upon  the  decayed,  and  we  no 
longer  read  the  lament  over  the  lost  art  of  lying 
issued  many  magazines  ago  by  a  once  prominent 
British  author.  Still,  without  advancing  any 
Wilde  theories,  one  may  fairly  claim  that  truth 
is  a  jewel — a  jewel  with  many  facets,  differing  in 
appearance  from  each  point  of  view. 

"And  while  '  Tell  the  truth  and  shame  the  Devil ' 
is  a  very  pretty  sentiment,  it  need  not  necessarily 
mean  anything.  The  Devil,  if  there  be  a  personal 
devil — and  it  has  been  pointed  out,  with  some 
show  of  reason,  that  an  impersonal  one  could 
scarcely  carry  out  such  enormous  contracts — 
would,  in  all  probability,  rather  approve  than 
otherwise  of  indiscriminate  truth-telling.  Irrita 
tion  is  the  root  of  all  evil;  and  there  is  nothing 
more  irritating  than  to  hear  the  truth  about  one's 
self.  It  is  bad  enough,  in  all  conscience,  to  be 
insulted,  but  the  truth  of  an  insult  is  the  barb 
that  prevents  its  retraction.  'Truth  hurts'  has 
all  the  pathos  of  understatement.  It  not  only 
hurts,  but  infuriates.  It  has  no  more  right  to 


132  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

go  naked  in  public  than  any  one  else.  Indeed,  it 
has  less  right ;  for  truth-telling  is  natural  to  man 
kind — as  is  shown  by  its  prevalence  among  the 
younger  sort,  such  as  children  and  cynics — and, 
as  Shakespeare  long  ago  forgot  to  tell  us,  a  touch 
of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  embarrassed." 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Haggage  sniffed.  She  con 
sidered  he  was  growing  improper.  She  distrusted 
Nature. 

"  Truth-telling,  then,  may  safely  be  regarded  as 
an  unamiable  indiscretion.  In  art,  the  bare  truth 
must,  in  common  gallantry,  be  awarded  a  print 
petticoat  or  one  of  canvas,  as  the  case  may  be,  to 
hide  her  nakedness;  and  in  life,  it  is  a  disastrous 
virtue  that  we  have  united  to  commend  and  avoid. 
Nor  is  the  decision  an  unwise  one;  for  man  is  a 
gregarious  animal,  knowing  that  friendship  is,  at 
best,  but  a  feeble  passion  and  therefore  to  be 
treated  with  the  care  due  an  invalid.  It  is  im 
possible  to  be  quite  candid  in  conversation  with  a 
man ;  and  with  a  woman  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
that  your  speech  should  be  candied. 

"Truth,  then,  is  the  least  desirable  of  acquaint 
ances. 

"  But  even  if  one  wished  to  know  the  truth,  the 
desire  could  scarcely  be  fulfilled.  Francis  Bacon, 
Lord  Verulam,  a  prominent  lawyer  of  Elizabeth's 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  133 

time,  who  would  have  written  Shakespeare's 
plays  had  his  other  occupations  not  prevented 
it,  quotes  Pilate  as  inquiring,  '  What  is  Truth  ? ' — 
and  then  not  staying  for  an  answer.  Pilate  de 
serves  all  the  praise  he  has  never  received. 
Nothing  is  quite  true.  Even  Truth  lies  at  the 
bottom  of  a  well  and  not  infrequently  in  other 
places.  No  assertion  is  one  whit  truer  than  its 
opposite." 

A  mild  buzz  of  protest  rose  about  him.  Ken- 
naston  smiled  and  cocked  his  head  on  one  side. 

"We  have,  for  example,"  he  pointed  out,  "a 
large  number  of  proverbs,  the  small  coin  of  con 
versation,  received  everywhere,  whose  value  no 
one  disputes.  They  are  rapped  forth,  like  an 
oath,  with  an  air  of  settling  the  question  once  and 
forever.  Well !  there  is  safety  in  quotations. 
But  even  the  Devil  can  cite  Shakespeare  for  his 
purpose.  'Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what 
you  can  do  to-day '  agrees  ill  with  *  Sufficient  unto 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof;  and  it  is  somewhat 
difficult  to  reconcile  '  Take  care  of  the  pence,  and 
the  pounds  will  take  care  of  themselves '  with  the 
equally  familiar  '  Penny-wise,  pound-foolish.'  Yet 
the  sayings  are  equally  untrue;  any  maxim  is, 
perforce,  a  general  statement,  and  therefore  falla 
cious,  and  therefore  universally  accepted.  Art 


i34  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

is  long,  and  life  is  short,  but  the  platitudes  con 
cerning  them  are  both  insufferable  and  eternal. 
We  must  remember  that  a  general  statement  is 
merely  a  snap-shot  at  flying  truth,  an  instanta 
neous  photograph  of  a  moving  body.  It 
may  be  the  way  that  a  thing  is;  but  it  is 
never  the  way  in  which  any  one  ever  saw  that 
thing,  or  ever  will.  This  is,  of  course,  a  general 
statement. 

"As  to  present  events,  then,  it  may  be  assumed 
that  no  one  is  either  capable  or  desirous  of 
speaking  the  truth;  why,  then,  make  such  a 
pother  about  it  as  to  the  past?  There  we  have 
carried  the  investigation  of  truth  to  such  an 
extreme  that  nowadays  very  few  of  us  dare 
believe  anything.  Opinions  are  difficult  to  secure 
when  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  library  will 
prove  either  side  of  any  question.  Formerly, 
people  had  a  few  opinions,  which,  if  erroneous, 
were  at  least  universal.  Nero  was  not  considered 
an  immaculate  man.  The  Flood  was  currently 
believed  to  have  caused  the  death  of  quite  a 
number  of  persons.  And  George  Washington, 
it  was  widely  stated,  once  cut  down  a  cherry-tree. 
But  now  all  these  comfortable  illusions  have  been 
destroyed  by  *  the  least  little  men  who  spend  their 
time  and  lose  their  wits  in  chasing  nimble  and 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  135 

retiring  truth,  to  the  extreme  perturbation  and 
drying  up  of  the  moistures.' ' 

Kennaston  looked  up  for  a  moment,  and  Billy 
Woods,  who  had  counted  seven  wrinkles  and  was 
dropping  into  a  forlorn  doze,  started  violently. 
His  interest  then  became  abnormal. 

''There  are,"  Mr.  Kennaston  complained,  rather 
reproachfully,  "too  many  inquiries,  doubts,  in 
vestigations,  discoveries,  and  apologies.  There 
are  palliations  of  Tiberius,  eulogies  of  Henry  VIII., 
rehabilitations  of  Aaron  Burr.  Lucretia  Borgia, 
it  appears,  was  a  grievously  misunderstood 
woman,  and  Heliogabalus  a  most  exemplary 
monarch;  even  the  dog  in  the  manger  may  have 
been  a  nervous  animal  in  search  of  rest  and  quiet. 
As  for  Shakespeare,  he  was  an  atheist,  a  syndicate, 
a  lawyer's  clerk,  an  inferior  writer,  a  Puritan,  a 
scholar,  a  nom  de  plume,  a  doctor  of  medicine,  a 
fool,  a  poacher,  and  another  man  of  the  same 
name.  Information  of  this  sort  crops  up  on  every 
side.  Even  the  newspapers  are  infected;  truth 
lurks  in  the  patent-medicine  advertisements,  and 
sometimes  creeps  stealthily  into  the  very  editorials. 
We  must  all  learn  the  true  facts  of  history, 
whether  we  will  or  no ;  eventually,  the  writers  of 
historical  romance  will  not  escape. 

"So  the  sad  tale  goes.     Ignorance — beautiful, 


136  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

divine  Ignorance — is  forsaken  by  a  generation  that 
clamours  for  the  truth.  The  earnest-minded 
person  has  plucked  Zeus  out  of  Heaven,  and 
driven  the  Maenad  from  the  wood,  and  dragged 
Poseidon  out  of  his  deep-sea  palace.  The  con 
claves  of  Olympus,  it  appears,  are  merely  nature- 
myths  ;  the  stately  legends  clustering  about  them 
turn  out  to  be  a  rather  elaborate  method  of  ex 
pressing  the  fact  that  it  occasionally  rains.  The 
heroes  who  endured  their  angers  and  jests  and 
tragic  loves  are  delicately  veiled  allusions  to  the 
sun — surely,  a  very  harmless  topic  of  conversation, 
even  in  Greece;  and  the  monsters,  'Gorgons  and 
Hydras  and  Chimaeras  dire,'  their  grisly  offspring, 
their  futile  opponents,  are  but  personified  frosts. 
Mythology — the  poet's  necessity,  the  fertile  mother 
of  his  inventions — has  become  a  series  of  atmos 
pheric  phenomena,  and  the  labours  of  Hercules 
prove  to  be  a  dozen  weather  bulletins. 

"Is  it  any  cause  for  wonder,  that  under  this 
cheerless  influence  our  poetry  is  either  silent  or 
unsold?  The  true  poet  must  be  ignorant,  for 
information  is  the  thief  of  rhyme.  And  it  is  only 
in  dealing  with " 

Kennaston  paused.  Margaret  had  appeared 
in  the  vestibule,  and  behind  her  stood  her  father, 
looking  very  grave. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  137 

"We  have  made  a  most  interesting  discovery," 
Miss  Hugonin  airily  announced  to  the  world  at 
large.  "It  appears  that  Uncle  Fred  left  all  his 
property  to  Mr.  Woods  here.  We  found  the  will 
only  last  night.  I'm  sure  you'll  all  be  interested 
to  learn  I'm  a  pauper  now,  and  intend  to  support 
myself  by  plain  sewing.  Any  work  of  this  nature 
you,  may  choose  to  favour  me  with,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  will  receive  my  most  earnest  attention." 

She  dropped  a  courtesy.  The  scene  appealed 
to  her  taste  for  the  dramatic. 

Billy  came  toward  her  quickly. 

"Peggy,"  he  demanded  of  her,  in  the  semi- 
privacy  of  the  vestibule,  "  will  you  kindly  elucidate 
the  meaning  of  this  da — this  idiotic  foolishness?" 

"Why,  this,"  she  explained,  easily,  and  ex 
hibited  a  folded  paper.  "  I  found  it  in  the  grate 
last  night." 

He  inspected  it  with  large  eyes.  "That's  ab 
surd,"  he  said,  at  length.  "You  know  perfectly 
well  this  will  isn't  worth  the  paper  it's  written  on." 

"My  dear  sir,"  she  informed  him,  coldly,  "you 
are  vastly  mistaken.  You  see,  I've  burned  the 
other  one."  She  pushed  by  him.  "Mr.  Ken- 
naston,  are  you  ready  for  our  walk?  We'll 
finish  the  paper  some  other  time.  Wasn't  it  the 
strangest  thing  in  the  world ?"  Her  dear, 


138  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

deep,  mellow  voice  died  away  as  she  and  Ken- 
naston  disappeared  in  the  gardens. 

Billy  gasped. 

But  meanwhile,  Colonel  Hugonin  had  given 
the  members  of  his  daughter's  house-party  some 
inkling  as  to  the  present  posture  of  affairs.  They 
were  gazing  at  Billy  Woods  rather  curiously.  He 
stood  in  the  vestibule  of  Selwoode,  staring  after 
Margaret  Hugonin;  but  they  stared  at  him,  and 
over  his  curly  head,  sculptured  above  the  door 
way,  they  saw  the  Eagle — the  symbol  of  the  crude, 
incalculable  power  of  wealth. 

Mr.  Woods  stood  in  the  vestibule  of  his  own 
house. 


XVII 

"  BY  gad  ! "  said  Colonel  Hugonin,  very  grimly, 
"anybody  would  think  you'd  just  lost  a  fortune 
instead  of  inheriting  one !  Wish  you  joy  of  it, 
Billy.  I  ain't  saying,  you  know,  we  shan't  miss 
it,  my  daughter  and  I — no,  begad,  for  it's  a  nice 
pot  of  money,  and  we'll  miss  it  damnably.  But 
since  somebody  had  to  have  it,  I'd  much  rather 
it  was  you,  my  boy,  than  a  set  of  infernal,  hypo 
critical,  philanthrope  sharks,  and  I'm  damn'  glad 
Frederick  has  done  the  square  thing  by  you — 
yes,  begad !" 

The  old  gentleman  was  standing  beside  Mr. 
Woods  in  the  vestibule  of  Selwoode,  some  distance 
from  the  other  members  of  the  house-party,  and 
was  speaking  in  confidence.  He  was  sincere;  I 
don't  say  that  the  thought  of  facing  the  world  at 
sixty-five  with  practically  no  resources  save  his 
half-pay — I  think  I  have  told  you  that  the 
Colonel's  diversions  had  drunk  up  his  wife's 
fortune  and  his  own  like  a  glass  of  water — I  don't 
say  that  this  thought  moved  him  to  hilarity. 
Over  it,  indeed,  he  pulled  a  frankly  grave  face. 


140  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

But  he  cared  a  deal  for  Billy ;  and  even  now  there 
was  balm — soothing,  priceless  balm — to  be  had 
of  the  reflection  that  this  change  in  his  prospects 
affected  materially  the  prospects  of  those  cultured, 
broad-minded,  philanthropic  persons  who  had 
aforetime  set  his  daughter  to  requiring  of  him  a 
perusal  of  Herbert  Spencer. 

Billy  was  pretty  well  aware  how  monetary 
matters  stood  with  the  old  wastrel;  and  the 
sincerity  of  the  man  affected  him  far  more  than 
the  most  disinterested  sentiments  would  have 
done.  Mr.  Woods  accordingly  shook  hands,  with 
entirely  unnecessary  violence. 

"You're  a  trump,  that's  what  you  are!" 
he  declared ;  "  oh,  yes,  you  are,  Colonel ! 
You're  an  incorrigible,  incurable  old  ace  of 
trumps — the  very  best  there  is  in  the  pack — 
and  it's  entirely  useless  for  you  to  attempt  to 
conceal  it." 

"  Gad ! "  said  the  Colonel. 

"And  don't  you  worry  about  that  will,"  Mr. 
Woods  advised.  "  I — I  can't  explain  things  just 
now,  but  it's  all  right.  You  just  wait — just  wait 
till  I've  seen  Peggy,"  Billy  urged,  in  desperation, 
"and  I'll  explain  everything." 

"By  gad !"  said  the  Colonel.  But  Mr. 

Woods  was  half-way  out  of  the  vestibule. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  141 

Mr.  Woods  was  in  an  unenviable  state  of  per 
turbation. 

He  could  not  quite  believe  that  Peggy  had  de 
stroyed  the  will;  the  thing  out-Heroded  Herod, 
out-Margareted  Margaret.  But  if  she  had,  it 
struck  him  as  a  high-handed  proceeding,  entailing 
certain  vague  penalties  made  and  provided  by  the 
law  to  cover  just  such  cases — penalties  of  whose 
nature  he  was  entirely  ignorant  and  didn't  care 
to  think.  Heavens !  for  all  he  knew,  that  angel 
might  have  let  herself  in  for  a  jail  sentence. 

Billy  pictured  that  queen  among  women !  that 
paragon !  with  her  glorious  hair  cropped  and  her 
pink-tipped  little  hands  set  to  beating  hemp — he 
had  a  shadowy  notion  that  the  lives  of  all  female 
convicts  were  devoted  to  this  pursuit — and 
groaned  in  horror. 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven  ! "  Mr. Woods  demanded 
of  his  soul,  "  what  possible  reason  could  she  have 
had  for  this  new  insanity?  And  in  the  name  of 
Heaven,  why  couldn't  she  have  put  off  her  tete-a- 
tete  with  Kennaston  long  enough  to  explain? 
And  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  does  she  see  to 
admire  in  that  putty-faced,  grimacing  ass,  any 
way !  And  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  am  I 
to  say  to  this  poor,  old  man  here  ?  I  can't  explain 
that  his  daughter  isn't  in  any  danger  of  being 


142  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

poor,  but  merely  of  being  locked  up  in  jail !  And 
in  the  name  of  Heaven,  how  long  does  that  out 
rageous  angel  expect  me  to  remain  in  this  state 
of  suspense !" 

Billy  groaned  again  and  paced  the  vestibule. 
Then  he  retraced  his  steps,  shook  hands  with 
Colonel  Hugonin  once  more,  and,  Kennasfru  or 
no  Kennaston,  set  out  to  find  her. 


XVIII 

BUT  when  he  came  out  upon  the  terrace,  Sarah 
Ellen  Haggage  stopped  him — stopped  him  with 
a  queer  blending  of  diffidence  and  resolve  in  her 
manner. 

The  others,  by  this,  had  disappeared  in  various 
directions,  puzzled  and  exceedingly  uncertain 
what  to  do.  Indeed,  to  congratulate  Billy  in  the 
Colonel's  presence  would  have  been  tactless ;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  condole  with  the  Colonel 
without  seeming  to  affront  the  wealthy  Mr.  Woods 
was  almost  impossible.  So  they  temporised  and 
fled — all  save  Mrs.  Haggage. 

She,  alone,  remained  to  view  Mr.  Woods  with 
newly  opened  eyes ;  for  as  he  paused  impatiently — 
the  sculptured  Eagle  above  his  head — she  per 
ceived  that  he  was  a  remarkably  handsome  and 
intelligent  young  man.  Her  motherly  heart 
opened  toward  this  lonely,  wealthy  orphan. 

"My  dear  Billy,"  she  cooed,  with  asthmatic 
gentleness,  "  as  an  old,  old  friend  of  your  mother's, 
aren't  you  going  to  let  me  tell  you  how  rejoiced 
Adele  and  I  are  over  your  good  fortune  ?  It  isn't 

'43 


144  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

polite,  you  naughty  boy,  for  you  to  run  away 
from  your  friends  as  soon  as  they've  heard  this 
wonderful  news.  Ah,  such  news  it  was — such  a 
manifest  intervention  of  Providence !  My  heart 
has  been  fluttering,  fluttering  like  a  little  bird, 
Billy,  ever  since  I  heard  it." 

In  testimony  to  this  fact,  Mrs.  Haggage  clasped 
a  stodgy  hand  to  an  exceedingly  capacious  bosom, 
and  exhibited  the  whites  of  her  eyes  freely.  Her 
smile,  however,  remained  unchanged  and  ample. 

"Er — ah — oh,  yes!  Very  kind  of  you,  I'm 
sure  !"  said  Mr.  Woods. 

"  I  never  in  my  life  saw  Adele  so  deeply  affected 
by  anything,"  Mrs.  Haggage  continued,  with  a 
certain  large  archness.  "The  sweet  child  was 
always  so  fond  of  you,  you  know,  Billy.  Ah,  I 
remember  distinctly  hearing  her  speak  of  you 
many  and  many  a  time  when  you  were  in  that 
dear,  delightful,  wicked  Paris,  and  wonder  when 
you  would  come  back  to  your  friends — not 
very  grand  and  influential  friends,  Billy,  but 
sincere,  I  trust,  for  all  that." 

Mr.  Woods  said  he  had  no  doubt  of  it. 

"So  many  people,"  she  informed  him,  confi 
dentially,  "will  pursue  you  with  adulation  now 
that  you  are  wealthy.  Oh,  yes,  you  will  find  that 
wealth  makes  a  great  difference,  Billy.  But  not 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  145 

with  Adele  and  me — no,  dear  boy,  despise  us  if  you 
will,  but  my  child  and  I  are  not  mercenary. 
Money  makes  no  difference  with  us;  we  shall  be 
the  same  to  you  that  we  always  were — sincerely 
interested  in  your  true  welfare,  overjoyed  at  your 
present  good  fortune,  prayerful  as  to  your  brilliant 
future,  and  delighted  to  have  you  drop  in  any 
evening  to  dinner.  We  do  not  consider  money 
the  chief  blessing  of  life;  no,  don't  tell  me  that 
most  people  are  different,  Billy,  for  I  know  it  very 
well,  and  many  is  the  tear  that  thought  has  cost 
me.  We  live  in  a  very  mercenary  world,  my  dear 
boy ;  but  our  thoughts,  at  least,  are  set  on  higher 
things,  and  I  trust  we  can  afford  to  despise  the 
merely  temporal  blessings  of  life,  and  I  entreat  you 
to  remember  that  our  humble  dwelling  is  always 
open  to  the  son  of  my  old,  old  friend,  and  that 
there  is  always  a  jug  of  good  whiskey  in  the  cup 
board." 

Thus  in  the  shadow  of  the  Eagle  babbled  the 
woman  whom — for  all  her  absurdities — Margaret 
had  loved  as  a  mother. 

Billy  thanked  her  with  an  angry  heart. 

"And  this" — I  give  you  the  gist  of  his  medita 
tions — "this  is  Peggy's  dearest  friend!  Oh, 
Philanthropy,  are  thy  protestations,  then,  all  void 
and  empty,  and  are  thy  noblest  sentiments — 


146  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

every  one  of  'em — so  full  of  sound  and  rhetoric, 
so  specious,  so  delectable — are  these,  then,  but 
dicers'  oaths !" 

Aloud,  "I'm  rather  surprised,  you  know,"  he 
said,  slowly,  "that  you  take  it  just  this  way, 
Mrs.  Haggage.  I  should  have  thought  you'd  have 
been  sorry  on — on  Miss  Hugonin's  account. 
It's  awfully  jolly  of  you,  of  course — oh,  awfully 
jolly,  and  I  appreciate  it  at  its  true  worth,  I  assure 
you.  But  it's  a  bit  awkward,  isn't  it,  that  the 
poor  girl  will  be  practically  penniless?  I  really 
don't  know  whom  she'll  turn  to  now." 

Then  Billy,  the  diplomatist,  received  a  surprise. 

"She'll  come  with  me,  of  course,"  said  Mrs. 
Haggage. 

Mr.  Woods  made  an — unfortunately — inaudi 
ble  observation. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  she  queried.  Then,  ob 
taining  no  response,  she  continued,  with  perfect 
simplicity:  "  Margaret's  quite  like  a  daughter  to 
me,  you  know.  Of  course,  she  and  the  Colonel 
will  come  with  us — at  least,  until  affairs  are  a  bit 
more  settled.  Even  afterward — well,  we  have 
a  large  house,  Billy,  and  I  don't  see  that  they'd 
be  any  better  off  anywhere  else." 

Billy's  emotions  were  complex. 

"You  big-hearted  old  parasite,"  his  own  heart 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  147 

was  singing.  "If  you  could  only  keep  that  ring 
of  truth  that's  in  your  voice  for  your  platform 
utterances — why,  in  less  than  no  time  you  could 
afford  to  feed  your  Afro-Americans  on  nightin 
gales'  tongues  and  clothe  every  working-girl  in 
the  land  in  cloth  of  gold !  You've  been  pilfering 
from  Peggy  for  years — pilfering  right  and  left 
with  both  hands !  But  you've  loved  her  all  the 
time,  God  bless  you;  and  now  the  moment  she's 
in  trouble  you're  ready  to  take  both  her  and  the 
Colonel — whom,  by  the  way,  you  must  very 
cordially  detest — and  share  your  pitiful,  pilfered 
little  crusts  with  'em  and — having  two  more 
mouths  to  feed — probably  pilfer  a  little  more 
outrageously  in  the  future !  You're  a  sancti 
monious  old  hypocrite,  you  are,  and  a  pious 
fraud,  and  a  delusion,  and  a  snare,  and 
you  and  Adele  have  nefarious  designs  on  me 
at  this  very  moment,  but  I  think  I'd  like  to 
kiss  you  ! ' ' 

Indeed,  I  believe  Mr.  Woods  came  very  near 
doing  so.  She  loved  Peggy,  you  see;  and  he 
loved  every  one  who  loved  her. 

But  he  compromised  by  shaking  hands  ener 
getically,  for  a  matter  of  five  minutes,  and  entreat 
ing  to  be  allowed  to  subscribe  to  some  of  her 
deserving  charitable  enterprises — any  one  she 


i48  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

might  mention — and  so  left  the  old  lady  a  little 
bewildered,  but  very  much  pleased. 

She  decided  that  for  the  future  Adele  must  not 
see  so  much  of  Mr.  Van  Orden.  She  began  to 
fear  that  gentleman's  views  of  life  were  not  suf 
ficiently  serious. 


XIX 

BILLY  went  into  the  gardens  in  pursuit  of 
Margaret.  He  was  almost  happy  now  and  felt 
vaguely  ashamed  of  himself.  Then  he  came  upon 
Kathleen  Saumarez,  who,  indeed,  was  waiting  for 
him  there ;  and  his  heart  went  down  into  his  boots. 

He  realised  on  a  sudden  that  he  was  one  of  the 
richest  men  in  America.  It  was  a  staggering 
thought.  Also,  Mr.  Woods's  views,  at  this 
moment,  as  to  the  advantages  of  wealth,  might 
have  been  interesting. 

Kathleen  stood  silent  for  an  instant,  eyes  down 
cast,  face  flushed.  She  was  trembling. 

Then,  "Billy,"  she  asked,  almost  inaudibly, 
"do — do  you  still  want — your  answer?" 

The  birds  sang  about  them.  Spring  triumphed 
in  the  gardens.  She  looked  very  womanly  and 
very  pretty. 

To  all  appearances,  it  might  easily  have  been 
a  lover  and  his  lass  met  in  the  springtide,  shame 
faced  after  last  night's  kissing.  But  Billy,  some 
how,  lacked  much  of  the  elation  and  the  perfect 
content  and  the  disposition  to  burst  into  melody 

149 


150  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

that  is  currently  supposed  to  seize  upon  rustic 
swains  at  such  moments.  He  merely  wanted  to 
know  if  at  any  time  in  the  remote  future  his  heart 
would  be  likely  to  resume  the  discharge  of  its 
proper  functions.  It  was  standing  still  now. 

However,  "Can  you  ask — dear?"  His  words, 
at  least,  lied  gallantly. 

The  poor  woman  looked  up  into  Billy's  face. 
After  years  of  battling  with  the  world,  here  for 
the  asking  was  peace  and  luxury  and  wealth 
incalculable,  and — as  Kathleen  thought — a  love 
that  had  endured  since  they  were  boy  and  girl 
together.  Yet  she  shrunk  from  him  a  little  and 
clinched  her  hands  before  she  spoke. 

"Yes,"  Kathleen  faltered,  and  afterward  she 
shuddered. 

And  here,  if  for  the  moment  I  may  prefigure 
the  Eagle  as  a  sentient  being,  I  can  imagine  his 
chuckle. 

"  Please  God,"  thought  poor  Billy,  "  I  will  make 
her  happy.  Yes,  please  God,  I  can  at  least  do 
that,  since  she  cares  for  me." 

Then  he  kissed  her. 

"My  dear,"  said  he,  aloud,  "I'll  try  to  make 
you  happy.  And — and  you  don't  mind,  do  you, 
if  I  leave  you  now?"  queried  this  ardent  lover. 
"  You  see,  it's  absolutely  necessary  I  should  see — 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  151 

see  Miss  Hugonin  about  this  will  business.  You 
don't  mind  very  much,  do  you — darling?"  Mr. 
Woods  inquired  of  her,  the  last  word  being  rather 
obviously  an  afterthought. 

"No,"  said  she.     "Not  if  you  must— dear." 
Billy  went  away,  lugging  a  heart  of  lead  in  his 
breast. 

Kathleen  stared  after  him  and  gave  a  hard, 
wringing  motion  of  her  hands.  She  had  done 
what  many  women  do  daily ;  the  thing  is  common 
and  sensible  and  universally  commended;  but 
in  her  own  eyes,  the  draggled  trollop  of  the  pave 
ments  was  neither  better  nor  worse  than  she. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  next  walkway  Billy 
encountered  Felix  Kennaston — alone  and  in  the 
most  ebulliently  mirthful  of  humours. 


XX 


BUT  we  had  left  Mr.  Kennaston,  I  think,  in 
company  with  Miss  Hugonin,  at  the  precise 
moment  she  inquired  of  him  whether  it  were  not 
the  strangest  thing  in  the  world — referring  there 
by  to  the  sudden  manner  in  which  she  had  been 
disinherited. 

The  poet  laughed  and  assented.  Afterward, 
turning  north  from  the  front  court,  they  de 
scended  past  the  shield-bearing  griffins — and  you 
may  depend  upon  it  that  each  shield  is  adorned 
with  a  bas-relief  of  the  Eagle — that  guard  the 
broad  stairway  leading  to  the  formal  gardens  of 
Selwoode.  The  gardens  stretch  northward  to  the 
confines  of  Peter  Blagden's  estate  of  Gridlington; 
and  for  my  part — unless  it  were  that  primitive 
garden  that  Adam  lost — I  can  imagine  no  goodlier 
place. 

On  this  particular  forenoon,  however,  neither 
Miss  Hugonin  nor  Felix  Kennaston  had  eyes  for 
its  comeliness;  silently  they  braved  the  griffins, 
and  in  silence  they  skirted  the  fish-pond — silver- 
crinkling  in  the  May  morning — and  passed 

152 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  153 

through  cloistral  ilex-shadowed  walks,  and  amphi 
theatres  of  green  velvet,  and  terraces  ample  and 
mellow  in  the  sunlight,  silently.  The  trees 
pelted  them  with  blossoms;  pedestaled  in  leafy 
recesses,  Satyrs  grinned  at  them  apishly,  and  the 
arrows  of  divers  pot-bellied  Cupids  threatened 
them,  and  Fauns  piped  for  them  ditties  of  no  tone ; 
the  birds  were  about  shrill  avocations  overhead, 
and  everywhere  the  heatless,  odourful  air  was  a 
caress;  but  for  all  this,  Miss  Hugonin  and  Mr. 
Kennaston  were  silent  and  very  fidgetty. 

Margaret  was  hatless — and  the  glory  of  the 
eminently  sensible  spring  sun  appeared  to  centre 
in  her  hair — and  violet-clad;  and  the  gown,  like 
most  of  her  gowns,  was  all  tiny  tucks  and  frills 
and  flounces,  diapered  with  semi-transparencies — 
unsubstantial,  foam-like,  mere  violet  froth.  As 
she  came  starry-eyed  through  the  gardens,  the 
impudent  wind  trifling  with  her  hair,  I  protest  she 
might  have  been  some  lady  of  Oberon's  court 
stolen  out  of  Elfland  to  bedevil  us  poor  mortals, 
with  only  a  moonbeam  for  the  changeable  heart 
of  her,  and  for  raiment  a  violet  shadow  spirited 
from  the  under  side  of  some  big,  fleecy  cloud. 

They  came  presently  through  a  trim,  yew- 
hedged  walkway  to  a  summer-house  covered  with 
vines,  into  which  Margaret  peeped  and  declined  to 


154  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

enter,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  entirely  too 
chilly  and  gloomy  and  exactly  like  a  mausoleum; 
but  nearby  they  found  a  semi-circular  marble 
bench  about  which  a  group  of  elm-trees  made  a 
pleasant  shadow  splashed  at  just  the  proper 
intervals  with  sunlight. 

On  this  Margaret  seated  herself;  and  then 
pensively  moved  to  the  other  end  of  the  bench, 
because  a  slanting  sunbeam  fell  there.  Since  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  to  blast  Mr.  Kennaston's 
dearest  hopes,  she  thoughtfully  endeavoured  to 
distract  his  attention  from  his  own  miseries — as 
far  as  might  be  possible — by  showing  him  how 
exactly  like  an  aureole  her  hair  was  in  the  sun 
light.  Margaret  always  had  a  kind  heart. 

Kennaston  stood  before  her,  smiling  a  little. 
He  was  the  sort  of  man  to  appreciate  the  man- 
oeuver. 

"My  lady,"  he  asked,  very  softly,  " haven't 
you  any  good  news  for  me  on  this  wonderful 
morning  ? ' ' 

"Excellent  news,"  Margaret  assented,  with  a 
cheerfulness  that  was  not  utterly  free  from 
trepidation.  "I've  decided  not  to  marry  you, 
beautiful,  and  I  trust  you're  properly  grateful. 
You  see,  you're  very  nice,  of  course,  but  I'm 
going  to  marry  somebody  else,  and  bigamy  is  a 


"  «  My  lady,'  he  asked,  very  softly,  •  haven't  you  any 
good  news  for  me  on  this  wonderful  morning  ?  ' ' 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  155 

crime,  you  know;  and,  anyhow,  I'm  only  a 
pauper,  and  you'd  never  be  able  to  put  up  with 
my  temper — now,  beautiful,  I'm  quite  sure  you 
couldn't,  so  there's  not  a  bit  of  use  in  arguing  it. 
Some  day  you'd  end  by  strangling  me,  which 
would  be  horribly  disagreeable  for  me,  and  then 
they'd  hang  you  for  it,  you  know,  and  that  would 
be  equally  disagreeable  for  you.  Fancy,  though, 
what  a  good  advertisement  it  would  be  for  your 
poems !" 

She  was  not  looking  at  him  now — oh,  no, 
Margaret  was  far  too  busily  employed  getting 
the  will  (which  she  had  carried  all  this  time)  into 
an  absurd  little  silver  chain-bag  hanging  at  her 
waist.  She  had  no  time  to  look  at  Felix  Ken- 
naston.  There  was  such  scant  room  in  the  bag; 
her  purse  took  up  so  much  space  there  was 
scarcely  any  left  for  the  folded  paper;  the  affair 
really  required  her  closest,  undivided  attention. 
Besides,  she  had  not  the  least  desire  to  look  at 
Kennaston  just  now. 

"Beautiful  child,"  he  pleaded,  "look  at  me!" 

But  she  didn't. 

She  felt  that  at  that  moment  she  could  have 
looked  at  a  gorgon,  say,  or  a  cockatrice,  or  any 
other  trifle  of  that  nature  with  infinitely  greater 
composure.  The  pause  that  followed  Margaret 


156  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

accordingly  devoted  to  a  scrutiny  of  his  shoes 
and  sincere  regret  that  their  owner  was  not  a 
mercenary  man  who  would  be  glad  to  be  rid  of 
her. 

"  Beautiful  child,"  spoke  the  poet's  voice,  sadly, 
"you  aren't — surely,  you  aren't  saying  this  in 
mistaken  kindness  to  me?  Surely,  you  aren't 
saying  this  because  of  what  has  happened  in  regard 
to  your  money  affairs?  Believe  me,  my  dear, 
that  makes  no  difference  to  me.  It  is  you  I  love 
— you,  the  woman  of  my  heart — and  not  a 
certain,  and  doubtless  desirable,  amount  of  metal 
disks  and  dirty  paper." 

"  Now  I  suppose  you're  going  to  be  very  noble 
and  very  nasty  about  it,"  observed  Miss  Hugonin, 
resentfully.  "That's  my  main  objection  to  you, 
you  know,  that  you  haven't  any  faults  I  can 
recognise  and  feel  familiar  and  friendly  with." 

"My  dear,"  he  protested,  "I  assure  you  I  am 
not  intentionally  disagreeable." 

At  that,  she  raised  velvet  eyes  to  his — with  a 
visible  effort,  though — and  smiled. 

"I  know  you  far  too  well  to  think  that,"  she 
said,  wistfully.  "  I  know  I'm  not  worthy  of  you. 
I'm  tremendously  fond  of  you,  beautiful,  but — 
but,  you  see,  I  love  somebody  else,"  Margaret 
concluded,  with  admirable  candour. 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  157 

"  Ah  ! "  said  he,  in  a  rather  curious  voice.  "  The 
painter  chap,  eh?" 

Then  Margaret's  face  flamed  in  a  wonderful 
glow  of  shame  and  happiness  and  pride  that  must 
have  made  the  surrounding  roses  very  hopelessly 
jealous.  A  quaint  mothering  look,  sacred,  divine, 
Madonna-like,  woke  in  her  great  eyes  as  she 
thought — remorsefully — of  how  unhappy  Billy 
must  be  at  that  very  moment  and  of  how  big  he 
was  and  of  his  general  niceness;  and  she  desired, 
very  heartily,  that  this  fleshy  young  man  would 
make  his  scene  and  have  done  with  it.  Who  was 
he,  forsooth,  to  keep  her  from  Billy  ?  She  wished 
she  had  never  heard  of  Felix  Kennaston. 

Souvent  femme  varie,  my  brothers. 

However,  "Yes,"  said  Margaret. 

"You  are  a  dear,"  said  Mr.  Kennaston,  with 
conviction  in  his  voice. 

I  dare  say  Margaret  was  surprised. 

But  the  poet  had  taken  her  hand  and  had 
kissed  it  reverently,  and  then  sat  down  beside 
her,  twisting  one  foot  under  him  in  a  fashion  he 
had.  He  was  frankly  grateful  to  her  for  refusing 
him;  and,  the  mask  of  affectation  slipped,  she 
saw  in  him  another  man. 

"I  am  an  out-and-out  fraud,"  he  confessed, 
with  the  gayest  of  smiles.  "  I  am  not  in  love  with 


158  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

you,  and  I  am  inexpressibly  glad  that  you  are 
not  in  love  with  me.  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret — 
you  don't  mind  if  I  call  you  that,  do  you  ?  I  shall 
have  to,  in  any  event,  because  I  like  you  so 
tremendously  now  that  we  are  not  going  to  be 
married — you  have  no  idea  what  a  night  I  spent. 
I  consider  it  most  peculiar  and  unsympathetic  of 
my  hair  not  to  have  turned  gray.  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  have  me,  you  see." 

Margaret  was  far  to  much  astonished  to  be 
angry. 

"But  last  night!"  she  presently  echoed,  in 
candid  surprise.  "Why,  last  night  you  didn't 
know  I  was  poor!" 

He  wagged  a  protesting  forefinger.  "That 
made  no  earthly  difference,"  he  assured  her.  "  Of 
course,  it  was  the  money — and  in  some  degree  the 
moon — that  induced  me  to  make  love  to  you. 
I  acted  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment ;  just  for  an 
instant,  the  novelty  of  doing  a  perfectly  sensible 
thing — and  marrying  money  is  universally  con 
ceded  to  come  under  that  head — appealed  to  me. 
So  I  did  it.  But  all  the  time  I  was  in  love  with 
Kathleen  Saumarez.  Why,  the  moment  I  left 
you,  I  began  to  realise  that  not  even  you — and 
you  are  quite  the  most  fascinating  and  generally 
adorable  woman  I  ever  knew,  Margaret — I  began 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  159 

to  realise,  I  say,  that  not  even  you  could  ever 
make  me  forget  that  fact.  And  I  was  very 
properly  miserable.  It  is  extremely  queer," 
Mr.  Kennaston  continued,  after  an  interval  of 
meditation,  "but  falling  in  love  appears  to  be 
the  one  utterly  inexplicable,  utterly  reasonless 
thing  one  ever  does  in  one's  life.  You  can  usually 
think  of  some  more  or  less  plausible  palliation  for 
embezzlement,  say,  or  for  robbing  a  cathedral  or 
even  for  committing  suicide — but  no  man  can  ever 
explain  how  he  happened  to  fall  in  love.  He 
simply  did  it." 

Margaret  nodded  sagely.     She  knew. 

"  Now  you,"  Mr.  Kennaston  was  pleased  to  say, 
"are  infinitely  more  beautiful,  younger,  more 
clever,  and  in  every  way  more  attractive  than 
Kathleen.  I  recognise  these  things  clearly,  but 
it  does  not  appear,  somehow,  to  alter  the  fact  that 
I  am  in  love  with  her.  I  think  I  have  been  in 
love  with  her  all  my  life.  We  were  boy  and  girl 
together,  Margaret,  and — and  I  give  you  my 
word,"  Kennaston  cried,  with  his  boyish  flush, 
"I  worship  her!  I  simply  cannot  explain  the 
perfectly  unreasonable  way  in  which  I  worship 
her!" 

He  was  sincere.  He  loved  Kathleen  Saumarez 
as  much  as  he  was  capable  of  loving  any  one — 


160  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

almost  as  much  as  he  loved  to  dilate  on  his  own 
peculiarities  and  emotions. 

Margaret's  gaze  was  intent  upon  him.  "Yet," 
she  marvelled,  "you  made  love  to  me  very 
tropically." 

With  unconcealed  pride,  Mr.  Kennaston  as 
sented.  "Didn't  I?"  he  said.  "I  was  in  rather 
good  form  last  night,  I  thought." 

"And  you  were  actually  prepared  to  marry 
me?"  she  asked — "even  after  you  knew  I  was 
poor?" 

"I  couldn't  very  well  back  out,"  he  submitted, 
and  then  cocked  his  head  on  one  side.  "  You  see, " 
he  added,  whimsically,  "  I  was  sufficiently  a 
conceited  ass  to  fancy  you  cared  a  little  for  me. 
So,  of  course,  I  was  going  to  marry  you  and  try  to 
make  you  happy.  But  how  dear — oh,  how  un 
utterably  dear  it  was  of  you,  Margaret,  to  decline 
to  be  made  happy  in  any  such  fashion  ! ' '  And 
Mr.  Kennaston  paused  to  chuckle  and  to  regard 
her  with  genuine  esteem  and  affection. 

But  still  her  candid  eyes  weighed  him,  and 
transparently  found  him  wanting. 

"You  are  thinking,  perhaps,  what  an  unutter 
able  cad  I  have  been  ? "  he  suggested. 

"Yes — you  are  rather  by  way  of  being  a  cad, 
beautiful.  But  I  can't  help  liking  you,  somehow. 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  161 

I  dare  say  it's  because  you're  honest  with  me. 
Nobody — nobody,"  Miss  Hugonin  lamented,  a 
forlorn  little  quiver  in  her  voice,  "  ever  seemed  to 
be  honest  with  me  except  you,  and  now  I  know 
you  weren't.  Oh,  beautiful,  aren't  I  ever  to  have 
any  real  friends  ? "  she  pleaded,  wistfully. 

Kennaston  had  meant  a  deal  to  her,  you  see ; 
he  had  been  the  one  man  she  trusted.  She  had 
gloried  in  his  fustian  rhetoric,  his  glib  artlessness, 
his  airy  scorn  of  money;  and  now  all  this  proved 
mere  pinchbeck.  On  a  sudden,  too,  there  woke 
in  some  by-corner  of  her  heart  a  queasy  realisation 
of  how  near  she  had  come  to  loving  Kennaston. 
The  thought  nauseated  her. 

"  My  dear,"  he  answered,  kindly,  "  you  will  have 
any  number  of  friends  now  that  you  are  poor. 
It  was  merely  your  money  that  kept  you  from 
having  any.  You  see,"  Mr.  Kennaston  went  on, 
with  somewhat  the  air  of  one  climbing  upon  his 
favourite  hobby,  "money  is  the  only  thing  that 
counts  nowadays.  In  America,  the  rich  are 
necessarily  our  only  aristocracy.  It  is  quite 
natural.  One  cannot  hope  for  an  aristocracy  of 
intellect,  if  only  for  the  reason  that  not  one  person 
in  a  thousand  has  any ;  and  birth  does  not  count 
for  much.  Of  course,  it  is  quite  true  that  all  of 
our  remote  ancestors  came  over  with  William  the 


162  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

Conqueror — I  have  sometimes  thought  that  the 
number  of  steerage  passengers  his  ships  would 
accommodate  must  have  been  little  short  of 
marvellous — but  it  is  equally  true  that  the  grand 
fathers  of  most  of  our  leisure  class  were  either 
deserving  or  dishonest  persons — who  either  started 
life  on  a  farm,  and  studied  Euclid  by  the  firelight 
and  did  all  the  other  priggish  things  they  thought 
would  look  well  in  a  biography,  or  else  met  with 
marked  success  in  embezzlement.  So  money, 
after  all,  is  our  only  standard ;  and  when  a  w^oman 
is  as  rich  as  you  were  yesterday  she  cannot  hope 
for  friends  any  more  than  the  Queen  of  England 
can.  You  could  have  plenty  of  flatterers,  toadies, 
sycophants — anything,  in  fine,  but  friends." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Margaret,  half  angrily 
— "not  a  word  of  it.  There  must  be  some  honest 
people  in  the  world  who  don't  consider  that  money 
is  everything.  You  know  there  must  be,  beau 
tiful!" 

The  poet  laughed.  "That,"  said  he,  affably, 
"is  poppycock.  You  are  repeating  the  sort  of 
thing  I  said  to  you  yesterday.  I  am  honest  now. 
The  best  of  us,  Margaret,  cannot  help  being  im 
pressed  by  the  power  of  money.  It  is  the  greatest 
power  in  the  world,  and  we  cannot — cannot 
possibly — look  upon  rich  people  as  being  quite 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  163 

like  us.  We  must  toady  to  them  a  bit,  Margaret, 
whether  we  want  to  or  not.  The  Eagle  intimi 
dates  us  all." 

"I  hate  him!"  Miss  Hugonin  announced,  with 
vehemence. 

Kennaston  searched  his  pockets.  After  a 
moment  he  produced  a  dollar  bill  and  showed  her 
the  Eagle  on  it. 

"There,"  he  said,  gravely,  "is  the  original  of 
the  Woods  Eagle — the  Eagle  that  intimidates  us 
all.  Do  you  remember  what  Shakespeare — one 
always  harks  back  to  Shakespeare  to  clinch  an 
argument,  because  not  even  our  foremost  actors 
have  been  able  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  was,  as 
somebody  in  Dickens  acutely  points  out,  'a 
day vilish  clever  fellow ' — do  you  remember,  I  say, 
what  Shakespeare  observes  as  to  this  very  Eagle  ? " 

Miss  Hugonin  shook  her  little  head  till  it 
glittered  in  the  sunlight  like  a  topaz.  She  cared 
no  more  for  Shakespeare  than  the  average  woman 
does,  and  she  was  never  quite  comfortable  when 
he  was  alluded  to. 

"He  says,"  Mr.  Kennaston  quoted,  solemnly- 

"The  Eagle  suffers  little  birds  to  sing, 
And  is  not  careful  what  they  mean  thereby, 
Knowing  that  with  the  shadow  of  his  wing 
He  can  at  pleasure  still  their  melody." 


164  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

"That's  nonsense,"  said  Margaret,  calmly. 
"I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  you're  talking 
about,  and  I  don't  believe  you  have  either." 

He  waved  the  dollar  bill  with  a  heroical  gesture. 
"Here,"  he  asserted,  "is  the  Eagle.  And  by  the 
little  birds,  I  have  not  a  doubt  he  meant  charity 
and  independence  and  kindliness  and  truth  and 
the  rest  of  the  standard  virtues.  That  is  quite 
as  plausible  as  the  interpretation  of  the  average 
commentator.  The  presence  of  money  chills  these 
little  birds — ah,  it  is  lamentable,  no  doubt,  but 
it  is  true." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Margaret — quite  as  if 
that  settled  the  question. 

But  now  his  hobby,  rowelled  by  opposition, 
was  spurred  to  loftier  flights. 

"  Ah,  the  power  of  these  great  fortunes  America 
has  bred  is  monstrous, ' '  he  suddenly  cried.  "  And 
always  they  work  for  evil.  If  I  were  ever  to  write 
a  melodrama,  Margaret,  I  could  wish  for  no  more 
thorough-paced  villain  than  a  large  fortune." 
Kennaston  paused  and  laughed  grimly.  "We 
cringe  to  the  Eagle!"  said  he.  "Eh,  well,  why 
not  ?  The  Eagle  is  very  powerful  and  very  cruel. 
In  the  South  yonder,  the  Eagle  has  penned  over  a 
million  children  in  his  factories,  where  day  by  day 
he  drains  the  youth  and  health  and  very  life  out 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  165 

of  their  tired  bodies;  in  sweat-shops,  men  and 
women  are  toiling  for  the  Eagle,  giving  their  lives 
for  the  pittance  that  he  gnidges  them ;  in  countless 
mines  and  mills,  the  Eagle  is  trading  human  lives 
for  coal  and  flour;  in  Wall  Street  yonder,  the 
Eagle  is  juggling  as  he  will  with  life's  necessities — 
thieving  from  the  farmer,  thieving  from  the  con 
sumer,  thieving  from  the  poor  fools  who  try  to 
play  the  Eagle's  game,  and  driving  them  at  will 
to  despair  and  ruin  and  death:  look  whither  you 
may,  men  die  that  the  Eagle  may  grow  fat.  So 
the  Eagle  thrives,  and  daily  the  rich  grow  richer 

and  the  poor  grow  poorer,   and  the  end " 

Kennaston  paused,  staring  into  vacancy.  "Eh, 
well,"  said  he,  with  a  smile  and  a  snap  of  his 
fingers,  "  the  end  rests  upon  the  knees  of  the  gods. 
But  there  must  need  be  an  end  some  day.  And 
meanwhile,  you  cannot  blame  us  if  we  cringe 
to  the  Eagle  that  is  master  of  the  world.  It  is 
human  nature  to  cringe  to  its  master;  and  while 
human  nature  is  not  always  an  admirable  thing, 
it  is,  I  believe,  rather  widely  distributed." 

Margaret  did  not  return  the  smile.  Like  any 
sensible  woman,  she  never  tolerated  opinions  that 
differed  from  her  own. 

So  she  waved  his  preachment  aside.  "  You  're 
trying  to  be  eloquent,"  was  her  observation,  "and 


i66  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

you've  only  succeeded  in  being  very  silly  and 
tiresome.  Go  away,  beautiful.  You  make  me 
awfully  tired,  and  I  don't  care  for  you  in  the  least. 
Go  and  talk  to  Kathleen.  I  shall  be  here — on 
this  very  spot,"  Margaret  added,  with  commend 
able  precision  and  an  unaccountable  increase  of 
colour,  "if — if  any  one  should  happen  to  ask." 

Then  Kennaston  rose  and  laughed  merrily. 

"  You  are  quite  delicious, ' '  he  commented.  "  It 
will  always  be  a  grief  and  a  puzzle  to  me  that  I 
am  not  mad  for  love  of  you.  It  is  unreasonable 
of  me,"  he  complained,  sadly,  and  shook  his  head, 
"but  I  prefer  Kathleen.  And  I  am  quite  certain 
that  somebody  will  ask  where  you  are.  I  shall 
describe  to  him  the  exact  spot " 

Mr.  Kennaston  paused,  with  a  slight  air  of 
apology. 

"If  I  were  you,"  he  suggested,  pleasantly,  "I 
would  move  a  little — just  a  little — to  the  left. 
That  will  enable  you  to  obtain  to  a  fuller  extent 
the  benefit  of  the  sunbeam  which  is  falling — quite 
by  accident,  of  course — upon  your  hair.  You  are 
perfectly  right,  Margaret,  in  selecting  that  hedge 
as  a  background.  Its  sombre  green  sets  you  off 
to  perfection." 

He  went  away  chuckling.  He  felt  that  Mar 
garet  must  think  him  a  devil  of  a  fellow. 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  167 

She  didn't,  though. 

"  The  idea  of  his  suspecting  me  of  such  uncon 
scionable  vanity!"  she  said,  properly  offended. 
Then,  "Anyhow,  a  man  has  no  business  to  know 
about  such  things,"  she  continued,  with  rising 
indignation.  "  I  believe  Felix  Kennaston  is  as 
good  a  judge  of  chiffons  as  any  woman.  That's 
effeminate,  I  think,  and  catty  and  absurd.  I 
don't  believe  I  ever  liked  him — not  really,  that  is. 
Now,  what  would  Billy  care  about  sunbeams  and 
backgrounds,  I'd  like  to  know  !  He'd  never  even 
notice  them.  Billy  is  a  man.  Why,  that's  just 
what  father  said  yesterday  !"  Margaret  cried,  and 
afterward  laughed  happily.  "  I  suppose  old 
people  are  right  sometimes — but,  dear,  dear, 
they're  terribly  unreasonable  at  others  !" 

Having  thus  uttered  the  ancient,  undying 
plaint  of  youth,  Miss  Hugonin  moved  a  matter  of 
two  inches  to  the  left,  and  smiled,  and  waited 
contentedly.  It  was  barely  possible  some  one 
might  come  that  way;  and  it  is  always  a  comfort 
to  know  that  one  is  not  exactly  repulsive  in  ap 
pearance. 

Also,  there  was  the  spring  about  her;  and, 
chief  of  all,  there  was  a  queer  fluttering  in  her 
heart  that  was  yet  not  unpleasant.  In  fine,  she 
was  unreasonably  happy  for  no  reason  at  all. 


168  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

I  believe  the  foolish  poets  call  this  feeling  love 
and  swear  it  is  divine;  however,  they  will  say 
anything  for  the  sake  of  an  ear-tickling  jingle. 
And  while  it  is  true  that  scientists  have  any 
number  of  plausible  and  interesting  explanations 
for  this  same  feeling,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have 
forgotten  them. 

I  am  compelled,  then,  to  fall  back  upon  those 
same  unreliable,  irresponsible  rhymesters,  and  to 
insist  with  them  that  a  maid  waiting  in  the 
springtide  for  the  man  she  loves  is  necessarily 
happy  and  very  rarely  puzzles  her  head  over  the 
scientific  reason  for  it. 


XXI 

BUT  ten  minutes  later  she  saw  Mr.  Woods  in 
the  distance  striding  across  the  sunlit  terraces, 
and  was  seized  with  a  conviction  that  their  inter 
view  was  likely  to  prove  a  stormy  one.  There  was 
an  ominous  stiffness  in  his  gait. 

"Oh,  dear,  dear!"  Miss  Hugonin  wailed;  "he's 
in  a  temper  now,  and  he'll  probably  be  just  as 
disagreeable  as  it's  possible  for  any  one  to  be.  I 
do  wish  men  weren't  so  unreasonable  !  He  looks 
exactly  like  a  big,  blue-eyed  thunder-cloud  just 
now — just  now,  when  I'm  sure  he  has  every  cause 
in  the  world  to  be  very  much  pleased — after  all 
I've  done  for  him.  He  makes  me  awfully  tired. 
I  think  he's  very  ungrateful.  I — I  think  I'm 
rather  afraid." 

In  fact,  she  was.  Now  that  the  meeting  she 
had  anticipated  these  twelve  hours  past  was 
actually  at  hand,  there  woke  in  her  breast  an 
unreasoning  panic.  Miss  Hugonin  considered, 
and  caught  up  her  skirts,  and  whisked  into  the 
summer-house,  and  there  sat  down  in  the  darkest 
corner  and  devoutly  wished  Mr.  Woods  in  Crim 

169 


1 70  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Tartary,  or  Jericho,  or,  in  a  word,  any  region  other 
than  the  gardens  of  Selvvoode. 

Billy  came  presently  to  the  opening  in  the 
hedge  and  stared  at  the  deserted  bench.  He  was 
undeniably  in  a  temper.  But,  then,  how  be 
coming  it  was  !  thought  someone. 

"  Miss  Hugonin  ! "  he  said,  coldly. 

Evidently  (thought  someone)  he  intends  to  be 
just  as  nasty  as  possible. 

"  Peggy  ! "  said  Mr.  Woods,  after  a  little. 

Perhaps  (thought  someone)  he  won't  be  very 
nasty. 

''Dear  Peggy!"  said  Mr.  Woods,  in  his  most 
conciliatory  tone. 

Someone  rearranged  her  hair  complacently. 

But  there  was  no  answer,  save  the  irresponsible 
chattering  of  the  birds,  and  with  a  sigh  Billy 
turned  upon  his  heel. 

Then,  by  the  oddest  chance  in  the  world, 
Margaret  coughed. 

I  dare  say  it  was  damp  in  the  summer-house; 
or  perhaps  it  was  caused  by  some  passing  bronchial 
irritation;  or  perhaps,  incredible  as  it  may  seem, 
she  coughed  to  show  him  where  she  was.  But 
I  scarcely  think  so,  because  Margaret  insisted 
afterward — very  positively,  too — that  she  didn't 
cough  at  all. 


XXII 

"  WELL  ! "  Mr.  Woods  observed,  lengthening  the 
word  somewhat. 

In  the  intimate  half-light  of  the  summer-house, 
he  loomed  prodigiously  big.  He  was  gazing 
downward  in  careful  consideration  of  three  fat 
tortoise-shell  pins  and  a  surprising  quantity  of 
gold  hair,  which  was  practically  all  that  he  could 
see  of  Miss  Hugonin's  person ;  for  that  young  lady 
had  suddenly  become  a  limp  mass  of  abashed 
violet  ruffles,  and  had  discovered  new  and  irre 
sistible  attractions  in  the  mosaics  about  her  feet. 

Billy's  arms  were  crossed  on  his  breast  and  his 
right  hand  caressed  his  chin  meditatively.  By 
and  bye,  "  I  wonder,  now,"  he  reflected,  aloud,  "if 
you  can  give  any  reason — any  possible  reason — 
why  you  shouldn't  be  locked  up  in  the  nearest 
sanatorium?" 

"You  needn't  be  rude,  you  know,"  a  voice  ob 
served  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  ruffles,  "  be 
cause  there  isn't  anything  you  can  do  about  it." 

Mr.  Woods  ventured  a  series  of  inarticulate 
observations.  "But  why?"  he  concluded,  des- 


i;2  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

perately.  "  But  why,  Peggy  ? — in  Heaven's  name, 
what's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? " 

She  looked  up.  Billy  was  aware  of  two  large 
blue  stars ;  his  heart  leapt ;  and  then  he  recalled  a 
pair  of  gray-green  eyes  that  had  regarded  him  in 
much  the  same  fashion  not  long  ago,  and  he 
groaned. 

"  I  was  unfair  to  you  last  night,"  she  said,  and 
the  ring  of  her  odd,  deep  voice,  and  the  richness 
and  sweetness  of  it,  moved  him  to  faint  longing, 
to  a  sick  heart-hunger.  It  was  tremulous,  too, 
and  very  tender.  "Yes,  I  was  unutterably  un 
fair,  Billy.  You  asked  me  to  marry  you  when 
you  thought  I  was  a  beggar,  and — and  Uncle 
Fred  ought  to  have  left  you  the  money.  It  was 
on  account  of  me  that  he  didn't,  you  know.  I 
really  owed  it  to  you.  And  after  the  way  I 
talked  to  you — so  long  as  I  had  the  money — I — 
and,  anyhow,  its  very  disagreeable  and  eccentric 
and  horrid  of  you  to  object  to  being  rich!" 
Margaret  concluded,  somewhat  incoherently. 

She  had  not  thought  it  would  be  like  this.  He 
seemed  so  stern. 

But,  "Isn't  that  exactly  like  her?"  Mr.  Woods 
was  demanding  of  his  soul.  "  She  thinks  she  has 
been  unfair  to  me — to  me,  whom  she  doesn't  care 
a  button  for,  mind  you.  So  she  hands  over  a 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  173 

fortune  to  make  up  for  it,  simply  because  that's 
the  first  means  that  comes  to  hand !  Now,  isn't 
that  perfectly  unreasonable,  and  fantastic,  and 
magnificent,  and  incredible? — in  short,  isn't  that 
Peggy  all  over  ?  Why,  God  bless  her,  her  heart's 
bigger  than  a  barn-door !  Oh,  it's  no  wonder  that 
fellow  Kennaston  was  grinning  just  now  when  he 
sent  me  to  her  !  He  can  afford  to  grin." 

Aloud,  he  stated,  "You're  an  angel,  Peggy 
that's  what  you  are.  I've  always  suspected  it, 
and  I'm  glad  to  know  it  now  for  a  fact.  But  in 
this  prosaic  world  not  even  angels  are  allowed 
to  burn  up  wills  for  recreation.  Why,  bless  my 
soul,  child,  you — why,  there's  no  telling  what 
trouble  you  might  have  gotten  into  ! " 

Miss  Hugonin  pouted.  "You  needn't  be  such 
a  grandfather,"  she  suggested,  helpfully. 

"But  it's  a  serious  business,"  he  insisted.  At 
this  point  Billy  began  to  object  to  her  pouting  as 
distracting  one's  mind  from  the  subject  under 
discussion.  "It — why,  it's " 

"  It's  what  ? "  she  pouted,  even  more  rebelliously. 

"Crimson,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  considering — "oh, 
the  very  deepest,  duskiest  crimson  such  as  you 
can't  get  in  tubes.  It's  a  colour  was  never 
mixed  on  any  palette.  It's— eh  ?  Oh,  I  beg  your 
pardon." 


174  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"I  think  you  ought  to,"  said  Margaret,  primly. 
Nevertheless,  she  had  brightened  considerably. 

"Of  course,"  Mr.  Woods  continued  with  a  fine 
colour,  "  I  can't  take  the  money.  That's  absurd." 

"Is  it?"  she  queried,  idly.  "Now,  I  wonder 
how  you're  going  to  help  yourself  ? " 

"Simplest  thing  in  the  world,"  he  assured  her. 
"You  see  this  match,  don't  you,  Peggy?  Well, 
now  you're  going  to  give  me  that  paper  I  see  in 
that  bag-thing  at  your  waist,  and  I'm  going  to 
burn  it  till  it's  all  nice,  soft,  feathery  ashes  that 
can't  ever  be  probated.  And  then  the  first  will, 
which  is  practically  the  same  as  the  last,  will  be 
allowed  to  stand,  and  I'll  tell  your  father  all 
about  the  affair,  because  he  ought  to  know,  and 
you'll  have  to  settle  with  those  colleges.  And 
in  that  way,"  Mr.  Woods  submitted,  "Uncle 
Fred's  last  wishes  will  be  carried  out  just  as  he 
expressed  them,  and  there  needn't  be  any  trouble 
— none  at  all.  So  give  me  the  will,  Peggy  ? " 

It  is  curious  what  a  trivial  matter  love  makes 
of  felony. 

Margaret's  heart  sank. 

However,  "Yes?"  said  she,  encouragingly; 
"  and  what  do  you  intend  doing  afterward  ? " 

"I — I  shall  probably  live  abroad,"  said  Billy. 
"Cheaper,  you  know." 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  175 

And  here  (he  thought)  was  an  excellent,  an 
undreamed-of  opportunity  to  inform  her  of  his 
engagement.  He  had  much  better  tell  her  now 
and  have  done.  Mr.  Woods  opened  his  mouth  and 
looked  at  Margaret,  and  closed  it.  Again  she  was 
pouting  in  a  fashion  that  distracted  one's  mind. 

"That  would  be  most  unattractive,"  said  Miss 
Hugonin,  calmly.  "  You're  very  stupid,  Billy, 
to  think  of  living  abroad.  Billy,  I  think  you're 
almost  as  stupid  as  I  am.  I've  been  very  stupid, 
Billy.  I  thought  I  liked  Mr.  Kennaston.  I 
don't,  Billy — not  that  way.  I've  just  told  him 
so.  I'm  not — I'm  not  engaged  to  anybody  now, 
Billy.  But  wasn't  it  stupid  of  me  to  make  such 
a  mistake,  Billy?" 

That  was  a  very  interesting  mosaic  there  in  the 
summer-house . 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Mr.  Woods.  His 
voice  shook,  and  his  hands  lifted  a  little  toward 
her  and  trembled. 

Poor  Billy  dared  not  understand.  Her  eyes 
downcast,  her  foot  tapping  the  floor  gently, 
Margaret  was  all  one  blush.  She,  too,  was 
trembling  a  little,  and  she  was  a  little  afraid  and 
quite  unutterably  happy ;  and  outwardly  she  was 
very  much  the  tiny  lady  of  Oberon's  court,  very 
much  the  coquette  quintessentialised. 


176  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

It  is  pitiable  that  our  proud  Margaret  should 
come  to  such  a  pass.  Ah,  the  men  that  you  have 
flouted  and  scorned  and  bedeviled  and  mocked 
at,  Margaret — could  they  see  you  now,  I  think 
the  basest  of  them  could  not  but  pity  and  worship 
you.  This  man  is  bound  in  honour  to  another 
woman;  yet  a  little,  and  his  lips  will  open — very 
dry,  parched  lips  they  are  now — and  he  will  tell 
you,  and  your  pride  will  drive  you  mad,  and  your 
heart  come  near  to  breaking. 

"Don't  you  understand — oh,  you  silly  Billy!" 
She  was  peeping  at  him  meltingly  from  under  her 
lashes. 

"I — I'm  imagining  vain  things,"  said  Mr. 
Woods.  "  I — oh,  Peggy,  Peggy,  I  think  I  must 
be  going  mad !" 

He  stared  hungrily  at  the  pink,  startled  face 
that  lifted  toward  his.  Ah,  no,  no,  it  could  not 
be  possible,  this  thing  he  had  imagined  for  a 
moment.  He  had  misunderstood. 

And  now  just  for  a  little  (thought  poor 
Billy)  let  my  eyes  drink  in  those  dear  felicities 
of  colour  and  curve,  and  meet  just  for  a 
little  the  splendour  of  those  eyes  that  have  the 
April  in  them,  and  rest  just  for  a  little  upon 
that  sanguine,  close-grained,  petulant  mouth; 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  177 

and  then  I  will  tell  her,  and  then  I  think  that 
I  must  die. 

"  Peggy "  he  began,  in  a  flattish  voice. 

"They  have  evidently  gone,"  said  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Kennaston;  "yes,  those  beautiful,  happy 
young  people  have  foolishly  deserted  the  very 
prettiest  spot  in  the  gardens.  Let  us  sit  here, 
Kathleen." 

"But  I'm  not  an  eavesdropper,"  Mr.  Woods 
protested,  half  angrily. 

I  fear  Margaret  was  not  properly  impressed. 

"Please,  Billy,"  she  pleaded,  in  a  shrill  whisper, 
"please  let's  listen.  He's  going  to  propose  to 
her  now,  and  you've  no  idea  how  funny  he  is  when 
he  proposes.  Oh,  don't  be  so  pokey,  Billy — do 
let's  listen!" 

But  Mr.  Woods  had  risen  with  a  strange 
celerity  and  was  about  to  leave  the  summer-house. 

Margaret  pouted.  Mrs.  Saumarez  and  Mr. 
Kennaston  were  seated  not  twenty  feet  from  the 
summer-house,  on  the  bench  which  Miss  Hugonin 
had  just  left.  And  when  that  unprincipled  young 
woman  finally  rose  to  her  feet,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  it  was  with  a  toss  of  the  head  and  with  the 
reflection  that  while  to  listen  wasn't  honourable, 
:t  would  at  least  be  very  amusing.  I  grieve  to 


178  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

admit  it,  but  with  Billy's  scruples  she  hadn't  the 
slightest  sympathy. 

Then  Kennaston  cried,  suddenly:  "Why, 
you're  mad,  Kathleen !  Woods  wants  to  marry 
you!  Why,  he's  heels  over  head  in  love  with 
Miss  Hugonin !" 

Miss  Hugonin  turned  to  Mr.  Woods  with  a 
little  intake  of  the  breath. 

No,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  tell  you  what  Billy 
saw  in  her  countenance.  Timanthes-like,  I  drape 
before  it  the  vines  of  the  summer-house.  For  a 
brief  space  I  think  we  had  best  betake  ourselves 
outside,  leaving  Margaret  in  a  very  pitiable  state 
of  anger,  and  shame,  and  humiliation,  and  heart 
break — leaving  poor  Billy  with  a  heart  that 
ached,  seeing  the  horror  of  him  in  her  face. 


XXIII 

MRS.  SAUMAREZ  laughed  bitterly. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  Billy  cared  for  me,  you  know, 
a  long  time  ago.  And  this  morning  he  told  me 
he  still  cared.  Billy  doesn't  pretend  to  be  a 
clever  man,  you  see,  and  so  he  can  afford  to 
practice  some  of  the  brute  virtues,  such  as  con 
stancy  and  fidelity." 

There  was  a  challenging  flame  in  her  eyes,  but 
Kennaston  let  the  stab  pass  unnoticed.  To  do 
him  justice,  he  was  thinking  less  of  himself,  just 
now,  than  of  how  this  news  would  affect  Margaret ; 
and  his  face  was  very  grave  and  strangely  tender, 
for  in  his  own  fashion  he  loved  Margaret. 

"It's  nasty,  very  nasty,"  he  said,  at  length,  in 
a  voice  that  was  puzzled.  "Yet  I  could  have 

sworn  yesterday "  Kennaston  paused  and 

laughed  lightly.  "  She  was  an  heiress  yesterday, 
and  to-day  she  is  nobody.  And  Mr.  Woods, 
being  wealthy,  can  afford  to  gratify  the  virtues 
you  commend  so  highly  and,  with  a  fidelity  that 
is  most  edifying,  return  again  to  his  old  love. 
And  she  welcomes  him — and  the  Woods  millions 


180  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

— with  open  arms.  It  is  quite  affecting,  is  it  not, 
Kathleen?" 

"You  needn't  be  disagreeable,"  she  observed. 

"My  dear  Kathleen,  I  assure  you  I  am  not 
angry.  I  am  merely  a  little  sorry  for  human 
nature.  I  could  have  sworn  Woods  was  honest. 
But  rogues  all,  rogues  all,  Kathleen !  Money 
rules  us  in  the  end;  and  now  the  parable  is  ful 
filled,  and  Love  the  prodigal  returns  to  make 
merry  over  the  calf  of  gold.  Confess,"  Mr.  Ken- 
naston  queried,  with  a  smile,  "is  it  not  strange 
an  all-wise  Creator  should  have  been  at  pains  to 
fashion  this  brave  world  about  us  for  little  men 
and  women  such  as  we  to  lie  and  pilfer  in  ?  Was 
it  worth  while,  think  you,  to  arch  the  firmament 
above  our  rogueries,  and  light  the  ageless  stars 
as  candles  to  display  our  antics?  Let  us  be 
frank,  Kathleen,  and  confess  that  life  is  but  a 
trivial  farce  ignobly  played  in  a  very  stately 
temple."  And  Mr.  Kennaston  laughed  again. 

"Let  us  be  frank!"  Kathleen  cried,  with  a 
little  catch  in  her  voice.  "Why,  it  isn't  in  you 
to  be  frank,  Felix  Kennaston !  Your  life  is 
nothing  but  a  succession  of  poses — shallow, 
foolish  poses  meant  to  hoodwink  the  world  and 
at  times  yourself.  For  you  do  hoodwink  your 
self,  don't  you,  Felix?"  she  asked,  eagerly,  and 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  181 

gave  him  no  time  to  answer.  She  feared,  you  see, 
lest  his  answer  might  dilapidate  the  one  fortress 
she  had  been  able  to  build  about  his  honour. 

"And  now,"  she  went  on,  quickly,  "you're 
trying  to  make  me  think  you  a  devil  of  a  fellow, 
aren't  you?  And  you're  hinting  that  I've  ac 
cepted  Billy  because  of  his  money,  aren't  you? 
Well,  it  is  true  that  I  wouldn't  marry  him  if  he 
were  poor.  But  he's  very  far  from  being  poor. 
And  he  cares  for  me.  And  I  am  fond  of  him. 
And  so  I  shall  marry  him  and  make  him  as  good 
a  wife  as  I  can.  So  there  ! " 

Mrs.  Saumarez  faced  him  with  an  uneasy  de 
fiance.  He  was  smiling  oddly. 

"I  have  heard  it  rumoured  in  many  foolish 
tales  and  jingling  verses,"  said  Kennaston,  after 
a  little,  "that  a  thing  called  love  exists  in  the 
world.  And  I  have  also  heard,  Kathleen,  that 
it  sometimes  enters  into  the  question  of  marriage. 
It  appears  that  I  was  misinformed." 

"No,"  she  answered,  slowly,  "there  is  a  thing 
called  love.  I  think  women  are  none  the  better 
for  knowing  it.  To  a  woman,  it  means  to  take 
some  man — some  utterly  commonplace  man, 
perhaps — perhaps,  only  an  idle  poseur  such  as 
you  are,  Felix — and  to  set  him  up  on  a  pedestal, 
and  to  bow  down  and  worship  him ;  and  to  protest 


i8z  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

loudly,  both  to  the  world  and  to  herself,  that  in 
spite  of  all  appearances  her  idol  really  hasn't  feet 
of  clay,  or  that,  at  any  rate,  it  is  the  very  nicest 
clay  in  the  world.  For  a  time  she  deceives  her 
self,  Felix.  Then  the  idol  topples  from  the 
pedestal  and  is  broken,  and  she  sees  that  it  is  all 
clay,  Felix — clay  through  and  through — and  her 
heart  breaks  with  it." 

Kennaston  bowed  his  head.  "It  is  true,"  said 
he;  "that  is  the  love  of  women." 

"To  a  man,"  she  went  on,  dully,  "it  means  to 
take  some  woman — the  nearest  woman  who  isn't 
actually  deformed — and  to  make  pretty  speeches 
to  her  and  to  make  her  love  him.  And  after  a 

while "  Kathleen  shrugged  her  shoulders 

drearily.  "Why,  after  a  while,"  said  she,  "he 
grows  tired  and  looks  for  some  other  woman." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Kennaston — "yes,  very  true 
that  some  men  love  in  that  fashion." 

There  ensued  a  silence.  It  was  a  long  silence, 
and  under  the  tension  of  it  Kathleen's  composure 
snapped  like  a  cord  that  has  been  stretched  to 
the  breaking  point. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  she  cried,  suddenly;  "that  is 
how  I  have  loved  you  and  that  is  how  you've 
loved  me,  Felix  Kennaston !  Ah,  Billy  told  me 
what  happened  last  night !  And  that — that  was 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  183 

why  I "  Mrs.  Saumarez  paused  and  regarded 

him  curiously.  "You  don't  make  a  very  noble 
figure,  just  now,  do  you?"  she  asked,  with  careful 
deliberation.  "You  were  ready  to  sell  yourself 
for  Miss  Hugonin's  money,  weren't  you?  And 
now  you  must  take  her  without  the  money.  Poor 
Felix !  Ah,  you  poor,  petty  liar,  who've  over 
reached  yourself  so  utterly!"  And  again  Kath 
leen  began  to  laugh,  but  somewhat  shrilly,  some 
what  hysterically. 

"  You  are  wrong,"  he  said,  with  a  flush.  "  It  is 
true  that  I  asked  Miss  Hugonin  to  marry  me. 
But  she — very  wisely,  I  dare  say — declined." 

"Ah!"  Kathleen  said,  slowly.  Then— and  it 
will  not  do  to  inquire  too  closely  into  her  logic — 
she  spoke  with  considerable  sharpness:  "She's  a 
conceited  little  cat !  I  never  in  all  my  life  knew 
a  girl  to  be  quite  so  conceited  as  she  is.  Positively, 
I  don't  believe  she  thinks  there's  a  man  breathing 
who's  good  enough  for  her!" 

Kennaston  grinned.  "Oh,  Kathleen,  Kath 
leen  ! "  he  said ;  "  you  are  simply  delicious." 

And  Mrs.  Saumarez  coloured  prettily  and  tried 
to  look  severe  and  could  not,  for  the  simple 
reason  that,  while  she  knew  Kennaston  to  be 
flippant  and  weak  and  unstable  as  water  and 
generally  worthless,  yet  for  some  occult  cause  she 


184  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

loved  him  as  tenderly  as  though  he  had  been  a 
paragon  of  all  the  manly  virtues.  And  I  dare  say 
that  for  many  of  us  it  is  by  a  very  kindly  provision 
of  Nature  that  all  women  are  created  capable  of 
doing  this  illogical  thing  and  that  most  of  them  do 
it  daily. 

"It  is  true,"  the  poet  said,  at  length,  "that  I 
have  played  no  heroic  part.  And  I  don't  question, 
Kathleen,  that  I  am  all  you  think  me.  Yet,  such 
as  I  am,  I  love  you.  And  such  as  I  am,  you  love 
me,  and  it  is  I  that  you  are  going  to  marry,  and 
not  that  Woods  person." 

"  He's  worth  ten  of  you  ! "  she  cried,  scornfully. 

"Twenty  of  me,  perhaps,"  Mr.  Kennaston  as 
sented,  "but  that  isn't  the  question.  You  don't 
love  him,  Kathleen.  You  are  about  to  marry 
him  for  his  money.  You  are  about  to  do  what  I 
thought  to  do  yesterday.  But  you  won't,  Kath 
leen.  You  know  that  I  need  you,  my  dear,  and — 
unreasonably  enough,  God  knows — you  love  me." 

Mrs.  Saumarez  regarded  him  intently  for  a 
considerable  space,  and  during  that  space  the 
Eagle  warred  in  her  heart  with  the  one  foe  he 
can  never  conquer.  Love  had  a  worthless  ally; 
but  Love  fought  staunchly. 

By  and  bye,  "  Yes,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was 
almost  sullen ;  "  I  love  you.  I  ought  to  love  Billy, 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  185 

but  I  don't.  I  shall  ask  him  to  release  me  from 
my  engagement.  And  yes,  I  will  marry  you  if 
you  like." 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips.  "You  are  an 
angel,"  Mr.  Kennaston  was  pleased  to  say. 

"No,"  Mrs.  Saumarez  dissented,  rather  for 
lornly  ;  "  I'm  simply  a  fool.  Otherwise,  I  wouldn't 
be  about  to  marry  you,  knowing  you  as  I  do  for 
what  you  are — knowing  that  I  haven't  one  chance 
in  a  hundred  of  any  happiness." 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  earnest, 
"  you  know  at  least  that  what  there  is  of  good  in 
me  is  at  its  best  with  you." 

"Yes,  yes!"  Kathleen  cried,  quickly.  "That 
is  so,  isn't  it,  Felix?  And  you  do  care  for  me, 
don't  you  ?  Felix,  are  you  sure  you  care  for  me— 
quite  sure?  And  are  you  quite  certain,  Felix, 
that  you  never  cared  so  much  for  any  one 
else?" 

Mr.  Kennaston  was  quite  certain.  He  pro 
ceeded  to  explain  his  feelings  toward  her  at  some 
length. 

Kathleen  listened  with  downcast  eyes  and 
almost  cheated  herself  into  the  belief  that  the 
man  she  loved  was  all  that  he  should  be.  But 
at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  knew  he  wasn't. 

I  think  we  may  fairly  pity  her. 


186  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Kennaston  and  Mrs.  Saumarez  chatted  very 
amicably  for  some  ten  minutes.  At  the  end  of 
that  period,  the  twelve  forty-five  express  bellowing 
faintly  in  the  distance  recalled  the  fact  that  the 
morning  mail  was  in,  and  thereupon,  in  the  very 
best  of  humours,  they  set  out  for  the  house.  I 
grieve  to  admit  it,  but  Kathleen  had  utterly  for 
gotten  Billy  by  this,  and  was  no  more  thinking  of 
him  than  she  was  of  the  Man  in  the  Iron  Mask. 

She  was  with  Kennaston,  you  see;  and  her 
thoughts,  and  glances, and  lips,  and  adoration  were 
all  given  to  his  pleasuring,  just  as  her  life  would 
have  been  if  its  loss  could  have  saved  him  from  a 
toothache.  He  strutted  a  little,  and  was  a  little 
grateful  to  her,  and — to  do  him  justice — received 
the  tribute  she  accorded  him  with  perfect  satis 
faction  and  equanimity. 


XXIV 

MARGARET  came  out  of  the  summer-house, 
Billy  Woods  followed  her,  in  a  very  moist  state 
of  perturbation. 

"  said  Mr.  Woods. 


But  Miss  Hugonin  was  laughing.  Clear  as  a 
bird-call,  she  poured  forth  her  rippling  mimicry  of 
mirth.  They  train  women  well  in  these  matters. 
To  Margaret,  just  now,  her  heart  seemed  dead 
within  her.  Her  lover  was  proved  unworthy. 
Her  pride  was  shattered.  She  had  loved  this 
clumsy  liar  yonder,  had  given  up  a  fortune  for 
him,  dared  all  for  him,  had  (as  the  phrase  runs) 
flung  herself  at  his  head.  The  shame  of  it  was  a 
physical  sickness,  a  nausea.  But  now,  in  this 
jumble  of  miseries,  in  this  breaking-up  of  the  earth 
and  the  void  heavens  that  surged  about  her  and 
would  not  be  mastered,  the  girl  laughed  ;  and  her 
laughter  was  care-free  and  half  -languid  like  that 
of  a  child  who  is  thinking  of  something  else.  Ah, 
yes,  they  train  women  well  in  these  matters. 

At  length  Margaret  said,  in  high,  crisp  accents  : 
"  Pardon  me,  but  I  can't  help  being  amused,  Mr. 

187 


1 88  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Woods,  by  the  way  in  which  hard  luck  dogs  your 
footsteps.  I  think  Fate  must  have  some  grudge 
against  you,  Mr.  Woods." 

"Peggy "  said  Mr.  Woods. 

" Pardon  me,"  she  interrupted  him,  her  mascu 
line  little  chin  high  in  the  air,  "but  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  call  me  that.  It  was  well  enough  when 
we  were  boy  and  girl  together,  Mr.  Woods.  But 
you've  developed  since — ah,  yes,  you've  de 
veloped  into  such  a  splendid  actor,  such  a  con 
summate  liar,  such  a  clever  scoundrel,  Mr.  Woods, 
that  I  scarcely  recognise  you  now." 

And  there  was  not  a  spark  of  anger  in  the  very 
darkest  corner  of  Billy's  big,  brave  heart,  but 
only  pity — pity  all  through  and  through,  that  sent 
little  icy  ticklings  up  and  down  his  spine  and 
turned  his  breathing  to  great  sobs.  For  she  had 
turned  full  face  to  him  and  he  could  see  the  look 
in  her  eyes. 

I  think  he  has  never  forgotten  it.  Years  after 
the  memory  of  it  would  come  upon  him  suddenly 
and  set  hot  drenching  waves  of  shame  and  remorse 
surging  about  his  body — remorse  unutterable  that 
he  ever  hurt  his  Peggy  so  deeply.  For  they  were 
tragic  eyes.  Beneath  them  her  twitching  mouth 
smiled  bravely,  but  the  mirth  of  her  eyes  was 
monstrous.  It  was  the  mirth  of  a  beaten  woman, 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  189 

of  a  woman  who  has  known  the  last  extreme  of 
shame  and  misery  and  has  learned  to  laugh  at  it. 
Even  now  Billy  Woods  cannot  quite  forget. 

"Peggy,"  said  he,  brokenly,  "ah,  dear,  dear 
Peggy,  listen  to  me!" 

"Why,  have  you  thought  of  a  plausible  lie  so 
soon?"  she  queried,  sweetly.  "Dear  me,  Mr. 
Woods,  what  is  the  use  of  explaining  things  ?  It 
is  very  simple.  You  wanted  to  marry  me  last 
night  because  I  was  rich.  And  when  I  declined 
the  honour,  you  went  back  to  your  old  love.  Oh, 
it's  very  simple,  Mr.  Woods  !  It's  a  pity,  though — 
isn't  it? — that  all  your  promptness  went  for 
nothing.  Why,  dear  me,  you  actually  managed 
to  propose  before  breakfast,  didn't  you?  I 
should  have  thought  that  such  eagerness  would 
have  made  an  impression  on  Kathleen — oh,  a 
most  favourable  impression.  Too  bad  it  hasn't ! " 

"Listen!"  said  Bill.y.  "Ah,  you're  forcing  me 
to  talk  like  a  cad,  Peggy,  but  I  can't  see  you 
suffer — I  can't !  Kathleen  misunderstood  what 
I  said  to  her.  I — I  didn't  mean  to  propose  to  her, 
Peggy.  It  was  a  mistake,  I  tell  you.  It's  you  I 
love — just  you.  And  when  I  asked  you  to  marry 
me  last  night — why,  I  thought  the  money  was 
mine,  Peggy.  I'd  never  have  asked  you  if  I 
hadn't  thought  that.  I— ah,  you  don't  believe 


IQO  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

me,  you  don't  believe  me,  Peggy,  and  before  God, 
I'm  telling  you  the  simple  truth  !  Why,  I  hadn't 
ever  seen  that  last  will,  Peggy  !  It  was  locked  up 
in  that  centre  place  in  the  desk,  you  remember. 
Why — why,  you  yourself  had  the  keys  to  it, 
Peggy.  Surely,  you  remember,  dear?"  And 
Billy's  voice  shook  and  skipped  whole  octaves  as 
he  pleaded  with  her,  for  he  knew  she  did  not 
believe  him  and  he  could  not  endure  the  horror  of 
her  eyes. 

But  Margaret  shook  her  head ;  and  as  aforetime 
the  twitching  lips  continued  to  laugh  beneath 
those  tragic  eyes.  Ah,  poor  little  lady  of  Elfland  ! 
poor  little  Undine,  with  a  soul  wakened  to  suf 
fering  ! 

"Clumsy,  very  clumsy!"  she  rebuked  him. 
"I  see  that  you  are  accustomed  to  prepare  your 
lies  in  advance,  Mr.  Woods.  As  an  extemporane 
ous  liar  you  are  very  clumsy.  Men  don't  propose 
by  mistake  except  in  farces.  And  while  we  are 
speaking  of  farces,  don't  you  think  it  time  to  drop 
that  one  of  your  not  knowing  about  that  last 
will?" 

"The  farce!"  Billy  stammered.  "You— why, 
you  saw  me  when  I  found  it ! " 

"Ah,  yes,  I  saw  you  when  you  pretended  to 
find  it.  I  saw  you  when  you  pretended  to  unlock 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  191 

that  centre  place.  But  now,  of  course,  I  know  it 
never  was  locked.  I  'm  very  careless  about  locking 
things,  Mr.  Woods.  Ah,  yes,  that  gave  you  a 
beautiful  opportunity,  didn't  it?  So,  when  you 
were  rummaging  through  my  desk — without  my 
permission,  by  the  way,  but  that's  a  detail — you 
found  both  wills  and  concocted  your  little  comedy  ? 
That  was  very  clever.  Oh,  you  think  you're 
awfully  smooth,  don't  you,  Billy  Woods?  But 
if  you  had  been  a  bit  more  daring,  don't  you 
see,  you  could  have  suppressed  the  last  one 
and  taken  the  money  without  being  encumbered 
by  me  ?  That  was  rather  clumsy  of  you,  wasn't 
it?"  Suave,  gentle,  sweet  as  honey  was  the 
speech  of  Margaret  as  she  lifted  her  face  to 
his,  but  her  eyes  were  tragedies. 

"Ah!"  said  Billy.  "Ah— yes— you  think- 
that."  He  was  very  careful  in  articulating  his 
words,  was  Billy,  and  afterward  he  nodded  his 
head  gravely.  The  universe  had  somehow  suf 
fered  an  airy  dissolution  like  that  of  Prospero's 
masque — Selwoode  and  its  gardens,  the  great 
globe  itself,  "the  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gor 
geous  palaces,  the  solemn  temples"  were  all  as 
vanished  wraiths.  There  was  only  Peggy  left — 
Peggy  with  that  unimaginable  misery  in  her  eyes 
that  he  must  drive  away  somehow.  If  that  was 


i92  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

what  she  thought,  there  was  no  way  for  him  to 
prove  it  wasn't  so. 

11  Why,  dear  me,  Mr.  Woods,"  she  retorted,  care 
lessly,  "what  else  could  I  think?" 

Here  Mr.  Woods  blundered. 

"Ah,  think  what  you  will,  Peggy!"  he  cried, 
his  big  voice  cracking  and  sobbing  and  resonant 
with  pain.  "Ah,  my  dear,  think  what  you  will, 
but  don't  grieve  for  it,  Peggy !  Why,  if  I'm  all 
you  say  I  am,  that's  no  reason  you  should  suffer 
for  it !  Ah,  don't,  Peggy  !  In  God's  name,  don't ! 
I  can't  bear  it,  dear,"  he  pleaded  with  her,  help 
lessly. 

Billy  was  suffering,  too.  But  her  sorrow  wras 
the  chief  of  his,  and  what  stung  him  now  to 
impotent  anger  was  that  she  must  suffer  and  he 
be  unable  to  help  her — for,  ah,  how  willingly,  how 
gladly,  he  would  have  borne  all  poor  Peggy's  woes 
upon  his  own  broad  shoulders. 

But  none  the  less,  he  had  lost  an  invaluable 
opportunity  to  hold  his  tongue. 

"  Suffer  !  I  suffer  ! ' '  she  mocked  him,  languidly ; 
and  then,  like  a  banjo-string,  the  tension  snapped, 
and  she  gave  a  long,  angry  gasp,  and  her  wrath 
flamed. 

"Upon  my  word,  you're  the  most  conceited 
man  I  ever  knew  in  my  life !  You  think  I'm  in 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  193 

love  with  you !  With  you !  Billy  Woods,  I 
wouldn't  wipe  my  feet  on  you  if  you  were  the 
last  man  left  on  earth  !  I  hate  you,  I  loathe  you, 
I  detest  you,  I  despise  you  !  Do  you  hear  me  ? — 
I  hate  you.  What  do  I  care  if  you  are  a  snob,  and 
a  cad,  and  a  fortune-hunter,  and  a  forger,  and — 
well,  I  don't  care !  Perhaps  you  haven't  ever 
forged  anything  yet,  but  I'm  quite  sure  you  would 
if  you  ever  got  an  opportunity.  You'd  be 
delighted  to  do  it.  Yes,  you  would — you're  just 
the  sort  of  man  who  revels  in  crime.  I  love  you ! 
Why,  that's  the  best  joke  I've  heard  for  a  long 
time.  I'm  only  sorry  for  you,  Billy  Woods — sorry 
because  Kathleen  has  thrown  you  over — sorry, 
do  you  understand  ?  Yes,  since  you're  so  fond  of 
skinny  women,  I  think  it's  a  great  pity  she 
wouldn't  have  you.  Don't  talk  to  me ! — she  is 
skinny.  I  guess  I  know.  She's  as  skinny  as  a 
beanpole.  She's  skinnier  than  I  ever  imagined  it 
possible  for  anybody — anybody — to  be.  And  she 
pads  and  rouges  till  I  think  it's  disgusting,  and 
not  half — not  one-half — of  her  hair  belongs  to  her, 
and  that  half  is  dyed.  But,  of  course,  if  you  like 
that  sort  of  thing,  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes, 
and  I'm  sure  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  even  though 
personally  I  don't  care  for  skinny  women.  I 
hate  'em!  And  I  hate  you,  too,  Billy  Woods!'1 


194  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

She  stamped  her  foot,  did  Margaret.  You 
must  bear  with  her,  for  her  heart  is  breaking  now, 
and  if  she  has  become  a  termagant  it  is  because 
her  shamed  pride  has  driven  her  mad.  Bear 
with  her,  then,  a  little  longer. 

Billy  tried  to  bear  with  her,  for  in  part  he  under 
stood. 

" Peggy>"  said  ne»  verY  gently,  "you're  wrong." 

"Yes,  I  dare  say !"  she  snapped  at  him. 

"We  won't  discuss  Kathleen,  if  you  please. 
But  you're  wrong  about  the  will.  I've  told  you 
the  whole  truth  about  that,  but  I  don't  blame  you 
for  not  believing  me,  Peggy — ah,  no,  not  I.  There 
seems  to  be  a  curse  upon  Uncle  Fred's  money. 
It  brings  out  the  worst  of  all  of  us.  It  has 
changed  even  you,  Peggy — and  not  for  the  better, 
Peggy.  You've  become  distrustful.  You — ah, 
well,  we  won't  discuss  that  now.  Give  me  the 
will,  my  dear,  and  I'll  burn  it  before  your  eyes. 
That  ought  to  show  you,  Peggy,  that  you're 
wrong. ' '  Billy  was  very  white-lipped  as  he  ended, 
for  the  Woods  temper  is  a  short  one. 

But  she  had  an  arrow  left  for  him.  "Give  it 
to  you !  And  do  you  think  I'd  trust  you  with  it, 
Billy  Woods?" 

"Peggy! — ah,  Peggy,  I  hadn't  deserved  that. 
Be  just,  at  least,  to  me,"  poor  Billy  begged  of  her. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 


195 


Which  was  an  absurd  thing  to  ask  of  an  angry 
woman. 

"  Yes,  I  do  know  what  you'd  do  with  it  t  You'd 
take  it  right  off  and  have  it  probated  or  executed 
or  whatever  it  is  they  do  to  wills,  and  turn  me 
straight  out  in  the  gutter.  That's  just  what 
you're  longing  to  do  this  very  moment.  Oh,  I 
know,  Billy  Woods — I  know  what  a  temper 
you've  got,  and  I  know  you're  keeping  quiet  now 
simply  because  you  know  that's  the  most  exas 
perating  thing  you  can  possibly  do.  I  wouldn't 
have  such  a  disposition  as  you've  got  for  the 
world.  You've  absolutely  no  control  over  your 
temper — not  a  bit  of  it.  You're  vile,  Billy  Woods  ! 
Oh,  I  hate  you  !  Yes,  you've  made  me  cry,  and  I 
suppose  you're  very  proud  of  yourself.  Aren't  you 
proud  ?  Don't  stand  staring  at  me  like  a  stuck  pig, 
but  answer  me  when  I  talk  to  you !  Aren't  you 
proud  of  making  me  cry  ?  Aren't  you  ?  Ah,  don't 
talk  to  me — don't  talk  to  me,  I  tell  you  !  I  don't 
wish  to  hear  a  word  you've  got  to  say.  I  hate  you. 
And  you  shan't  have  the  money,  that's  flat." 

"I  don't  want  it,"  said  Billy.  "I've  been 
trying  to  tell  you  for  the  last  half -hour  I  don't 
want  it.  In  God's  name,  why  can't  you  talk  like 
a  sensible  woman,  Peggy?"  I  am  afraid  that 
Mr.  Woods,  too,  was  beginning  to  lose  his  temper. 


196  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"That's  right — swear  at  me!  It  only  needed 
that.  You  do  want  the  money,  and  when  you 
say  you  don't  you're  lying — lying — lying,  do  you 
understand?  You  all  want  my  money.  Oh, 
dear,  dear!11  Margaret  wailed,  and  her  great  voice 
was  shaken  to  its  depths  and  its  sobbing  was  the 
long,  hopeless  sobbing  of  a  violin,  as  she  flung 
back  her  tear-stained  face,  and  clenched  her 
little  hands  tight  at  her  sides;  "why  can't  you  let 
me  alone  ?  You're  all  after  my  money — you,  and 
Mr.  Kennaston,  and  Mr.  Jukesbury,  and  all  of  you ! 
Why  can't  you  let  me  alone?  Ever  since  I've 
had  it  you've  hunted  me  as  if  I'd  been  a  wild 
beast.  God  help  me,  I  haven't  had  a  moment's 
peace,  a  moment's  rest,  a  moment's  quiet,  since 
Uncle  Fred  died.  They  all  want  my  money — 
everybody  wants  my  money!  Oh,  Billy,  Billy, 
why  can't  they  let  me  alone  ? " 

"Peggy "  said  he. 

But  she  interrupted  him.  "Don't  talk  to  me, 
Billy  Woods !  Don't  you  dare  talk  to  me.  I 
told  you  I  didn't  wish  to  hear  a  word  you  had  to 
say,  didn't  I  ?  Yes,  you  all  want  my  money. 
And  you  shan't  have  it.  It's  mine.  Uncle  Fred 
left  it  to  me.  It's  mine,  I  tell  you.  I've  got  the 
greatest  thing  in  the  world — money !  And  I'll 
keep  it.  Ah,  I  hate  you  all — every  one  of  you — 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  197 

but  I'll  make  you  cringe  to  me.  I'll  make  you 
all  cringe,  do  you  hear,  because  I've  got  the  money 
you're  ready  to  sell  your  paltry  souls  for !  Oh, 
I'll  make  you  cringe  most  of  all,  Billy  Woods ! 
I'm  rich,  do  you  hear? — rich — rich!  Wouldn't 
you  be  glad  to  marry  the  rich  Margaret  Hugonin, 
Billy?  Ah,  haven't  you  schemed  hard  for  that? 
You'd  be  glad  to  do  it,  wouldn't  you?  You'd 
give  your  dirty  little  soul  for  that,  wouldn't  you, 
Billy  ?  Ah,  what  a  cur  you  are  !  Well,  some  day 
perhaps  I'll  buy  you  just  as  I  would  any  other 
cur.  Wouldn't  you  be  glad  if  I  did,  Billy?  Beg 
for  it,  Billy!  Beg,  sir!  Beg!"  And  Margaret 
flung  back  her  head  again,  and  laughed  shrilly, 
and  held  up  her  hand  before  him  as  one  holds  a 
lump  of  sugar  before  a  pug-dog. 

In  Selwoode  I  can  fancy  how  the  Eagle  screamed 
his  triumph. 

But  Billy's  face  was  ashen. 

"Before  God!"  he  said,  between  his  teeth, 
"loving  you  as  I  do,  I  wouldn't  marry  you  now 
for  all  the  wealth  in  the  world  !  The  money  has 
ruined  you — ruined  you,  Peggy." 

For  a  little  she  stared  at  him.  By  and  bye,  "  I 
dare  say  it  has,"  she  said,  in  a  strangely  sober 
tone.  "I've  been  scolding  like  a  fishwife.  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Mr.  Woods — not  for  what  I've  said, 


198  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

because  I  meant  every  word  of  it,  but  I  beg  your 
pardon  for  saying  it.  Don't  come  with  me, 
please." 

Blindly  she  turned  from  him.  Her  shoulders 
had  the  droop  of  an  old  woman's.  Margaret 
was  wearied  now,  weary  with  the  weariness  of 
death. 

For  a  while  Mr.  Woods  stared  after  the  tired 
little  figure  that  trudged  straight  onward  in  the 
sunlight,  stumbling  as  she  went.  Then  a  pleached 
walk  swallowed  her,  and  Mr.  Woods  groaned. 

"Oh,  Peggy,  Peggy!"  he  said,  in  bottomless 
compassion;  "oh,  my  poor  little  Peggy!  How 
changed  you  are  ! ' ' 

Afterward  Mr.  Woods  sank  down  upon  the 
bench  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  He  sat 
there  for  a  long  time.  I  don't  believe  he  thought 
of  anything  very  clearly.  His  mind  was  a  turgid 
chaos  of  misery ;  and  about  him  the  birds  shrilled 
and  quavered  and  carolled  till  the  air  was  vibrant 
with  their  trilling.  One  might  have  thought 
they  choired  in  honour  of  the  Eagle's  triumph,  in 
mockery  of  poor  Billy. 

Then  Mr.  Woods  raised  his  head  with  a  queer, 
alert  look.  Surely  he  had  heard  a  voice — the 
dearest  of  all  voices. 

"Billy!"  it  wailed;  "oh,  Billy,  Billy!" 


XXV 

FOR  at  the  height  of  this  particularly  mis- 
chancy  posture  of  affairs  the  meddlesome  Fates  had 
elected  to  dispatch  Cock-eye  Flinks  to  serve  as 
our  deus  ex  machina.  And  just  as  in  the  comedy 
the  police  turn  up  in  the  nick  of  time  to  fetch 
Tartuffe  to  prison,  or  in  the  tragedy  Friar  John 
manages  to  be  detained  on  his  journey  to  Mantua 
and  thus  bring  about  that  lamentable  business  in 
the  tomb  of  the  Capulets,  so  Mr.  Flinks  now 
happens  inopportunely  to  arrive  upon  our  lesser 
stage. 

Faithfully  to  narrate  how  Cock-eye  Flinks 
chanced  to  be  at  Selwoode  were  a  task  of  magni 
tude.  That  gentleman  travelled  very  quietly; 
and  for  the  most  part,  he  journeyed  incognito 
under  a  variety  of  aliases  suggested  partly  by  a 
fertile  imagination  and  in  part  by  prudential 
motives.  For  his  notions  of  proprietary  rights 
were  deplorably  vague,  and  his  acquaintance 
with  the  police,  in  consequence,  extensive.  And 
finally,  that  he  was  now  at  Selwoode  was  not  in 
the  least  his  fault,  but  all  the  doing  of  an  N.  &  O. 

199 


200  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

brakesman,  who  had  in  uncultured  argument, 
reinforced  by  a  coupling-pin,  persuaded  Mr. 
Flinks  to  disembark  from  the  northern  freight  on 
the  night  previous. 

Mr.  Flinks,  then,  sat  leaning  against  a  tree  in 
the  gardens  of  Selwoode,  some  thirty  feet  from  the 
wall  that  stands  between  Selwoode  and  Gridling- 
ton,  and  nursed  his  pride  and  foot,  both  injured  in 
that  high  debate  of  last  evening,  and  with  a  jack- 
knife  rounded  off  the  top  of  a  substantial  staff 
designed  to  alleviate  his  present  lameness.  Mean 
while,  he  tempered  his  solitude  with  music, 
whistling  melodiously  the  air  of  a  song  that 
pertained  to  the  sacredness  of  home  and  of  a 
white-haired  mother. 

Subsequently  to  Cock-eye  Flinks  (as  the  play 
bill  has  it),  enter  a  vision  in  violet  ruffles. 

Wide-eyed,  she  came  upon  him  in  her  misery, 
steadily  trudging  toward  an  unknown  goal.  I 
think  he  startled  her  a  bit.  Indeed,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  Mr.  Flinks,  while  a  man  of  un 
doubted  talent  in  his  particular  line  of  business, 
was,  like  many  of  your  great  geniuses,  in  outward 
aspect  unprepossessing  and  misleading ;  for  where 
as  he  looked  like  a  very  shiftless  and  very  dirty 
tramp,  he  was  as  a  matter  of  fact  as  vile  a  rascal 
as  ever  pawned  a  swinish  soul  for  whiskey. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  201 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  said  Margaret, 
sharply.  "  Don't  you  know  this  is  private 
property?" 

To  his  feet  rose  Cock-eyo  Flinks.  "Lady," 
said  he,  with  humbleness,  "you  wouldn't  be  hard 
on  a  poor  workingman,  would  you?  It  ain't 
my  fault  I'm  here,  lady — at  least,  it  ain't  rightly 
my  fault.  I  just  climbed  over  the  wall  to  rest  a 
minute — just  a  minute,  lady,  in  the  shade  of 
these  beautiful  trees.  I  ain't  a-hurting  nobody 
by  that,  lady,  I  hope." 

"Well,  you  had  no  business  to  do  it,"  Miss 
Hugonin  pointed  out,  "and  you  can  just  climb 
right  back."  Then  she  regarded  him  more  in 
tently,  and  her  face  softened  somewhat.  "  What's 
the  matter  with  your  foot  ? "  she  demanded. 

"  Brakesman, "  said  Mr.  Flinks,  briefly.  "  Threw 
me  off  a  train.  He  struck  me  cruel  hard,  he  did, 
and  me  a  poor  workingman  trying  to  make  my 
way  to  New  York,  lady,  where  my  poor  old 
mother's  dying,  lady,  and  me  out  of  a  job.  Ah, 
it's  a  hard,  hard  world,  lady — and  me  her  only 
son — an(i  he  struck  me  cruel,  cruel  hard,  he  did, 
but  I  forgive  him  for  it,  lady.  Ah,  lady,  you're 
so  beautiful  I  know  you're  got  a  kind,  good 
heart,  lady.  Can't  you  do  something  for  a  poor 
workingman,  lady,  with  a  poor  dying  mother — 


202  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

and  a  poor,  sick  wife,"  Mr.  Flinks  added  as  a 
dolorous  afterthought;  and  drew  nearer  to  her 
and  held  out  one  hand  appealingly. 

Petheridge  Jukesbury  had  at  divers  times 
pointed  out  to  her  the  evils  of  promiscuous 
charity,  and  these  dicta  Margaret  parroted  glibly 
enough,  to  do  her  justice,  so  long  as  there  was 
no  immediate  question  of  dispensing  alms.  But 
for  all  that  the  next  whining  beggar  would  move 
her  tender  heart,  his  glib  inventions  playing  upon 
it  like  a  riddle,  and  she  would  give  as  recklessly  as 
though  there  were  no  such  things  in  the  whole 
wide  world  as  soup-kitchens  and  organised  chari 
ties  and  common-sense.  "Because,  you  know," 
she  would  afterward  salve  her  conscience,  "  I 
couldn't  be  sure  he  didn't  need  it,  whereas  I  was 
quite  sure  I  didn't." 

Now  she  wavered  for  a  moment.  "  You  didn't 
say  you  had  a  wife  before,"  she  suggested. 

"An  invalid,"  sighed  Mr.  Flinks — "a  helpless 
invalid,  lady.  And  six  small  children  probably 
crying  for  bread  at  this  very  moment.  Ah,  lady 
think  what  my  feelings  must  be  to  hear  'em  cry 
in  vain — think  what  I  must  suffer  to  know  that  I 
summoned  them  cherubs  out  of  Heaven  into  this 
here  hard,  hard  world,  lady,  and  now  can't  do 
by  'em  properly  ! "  And  Cock-eye  Flinks  brushed 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  203 

away  a  tear  which  I,  for  one,  am  inclined  to  regard 
as  a  particularly  ambitious  flight  of  his  imagina 
tion. 

Promptly  Margaret  opened  the  bag  at  her 
waist  and  took  out  her  purse.  "Don't!"  she 
pleaded.  "  Please  don't !  I — I'm  upset  already. 
Take  this,  and  please — oh,  please,  don't  spend  it 
in  getting  drunk  or  gambling  or  anything  horrid," 
Miss  Hugonin  implored  him.  "You  all  do,  and 
it's  so  selfish  of  you  and  so  discouraging." 

Mr.  Flinks  eyed  the  purse  hungrily.  Such  a 
fat  purse !  thought  Cock-eye  Flinks.  And  there 
ain't  nobody  within  a  mile  of  here,  neither.  You 
are  not  to  imagine  that  Mr.  Flinks  was  totally 
abandoned;  his  vices  were  parochial,  restrained 
for  the  most  part  by  a  lively  apprehension  of  the 
law.  But  now  the  spell  of  the  Eagle  was  strong 
upon  him. 

"Lady,"  said  Mr.  Flinks,  twisting  in  his  grimy 
hand  the  bill  she  had  given  him — and  there,  too, 
the  Eagle  flaunted  in  his  vigour  and  heartened 
him,  "lady,  that  ain't  much  for  you  to  give. 
Can't  you  do  a  little  better  than  that  by  a  poor 
workingman,  lady?" 

A  very  unpleasant-looking  person,  Mr.  Cock-eye 
Flinks.  Oh,  a  peculiarly  unpleasant-looking  per 
son  to  be  a  model  son  and  a  loving  husband  and 


204  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

a  tender  father.  Margaret  was  filled  with  a  vague 
alarm. 

But  she  was  brave,  was  Margaret.  "No,"  said 
she,  very  decidedly,  "I  shan't  give  you  another 
cent.  So  you  climb  right  over  that  wall  and  go 
straight  back  where  you  belong." 

The  methods  of  Mr.  Flinks,  I  regret  to  say,  were 
somewhat  more  crude  than  those  of  Mesdames 
Haggage  and  Saumarez  and  Messieurs  Kennaston 
and  Jukesbury. 

" Cheese  it!"  said  Mr.  Flinks,  and  flung  away 
his  staff  and  drew  very  near  to  her.  "  Gimme 
that  money,  do  you  hear !" 

"Don't  you  dare  touch  me !"  she  panted;  "ah, 
don't  you  dare!" 

"Aw,  hell!"  said  Mr.  Flinks,  disgustedly,  and 
his  dirty  hands  were  upon  her,  and  his  foul 
breath  reeked  in  her  face. 

In  her  hour  of  need  Margaret's  heart  spoke. 

"Billy!"  she  wailed;  "oh,  Billy,  Billy!" 

He  came  to  her — just  as  he  would  have  scaled 
Heaven  to  come  to  her,  just  as  he  would  have 
come  to  her  in  the  nethermost  pit  of  Hell  if  she 
had  called.  Ah,  yes,  Billy  Woods  came  to  her 
now  in  her  peril,  and  I  don't  think  that  Mr.  Flinks 
particularly  relished  the  look  upon  Billy's  face  as 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  205 

he  ran  through  the  gardens,  for  Billy  was  furi 
ously  moved. 

Cock-eye  Flinks  glanced  back  at  the  wall 
behind  him.  Ten  feet  high,  and  the  fellow  ain't 
far  off.  Cock-eye  Flinks  caught  up  his  staff,  and 
as  Billy  closed  upon  him,  struck  him  full  on  the 
head.  Again  and  again  he  struck  him.  It  was  a 
sickening  business. 

Billy  had  stopped  short.  For  an  instant  he 
stood  swaying  on  his  feet,  a  puzzled  face  showing 
under  the  trickling  blood.  Then  he  flung  out  his 
hands  a  little,  and  they  flapped  loosely  at  the 
wrists,  like  wet  clothes  hung  in  the  wind  to  dry, 
and  Billy  seemed  to  crumple  up  suddenly,  and 
slid  down  upon  the  grass  in  an  untidy  heap. 

"  Ah-h-h  ! "  said  Mr.  Flinks.  He  drew  back  and 
stared  stupidly  at  that  sprawling  flesh  which  just 
now  had  been  a  man,  and  was  seized  with  uncon 
trollable  shuddering.  "  Ah-h-h  ! "  said  Mr.  Flinks, 
very  quietly. 

And  Margaret  went  mad.  The  earth  and  the 
sky  dissolved  in  many  floating  specks  and  then 
went  red — red  like  that  heap  yonder.  The 
veneer  of  civilisation  peeled,  fell  from  her  like 
snow  from  a  shaken  garment.  The  primal  beast 
woke  and  flicked  aside  the  centuries'  work.  She 
was  the  Cave-woman  who  had  seen  the  death  of 


206  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

her  mate — the  brute  who  had  been  robbed  of  her 
mate. 

"  Damn  you  !  Damn  you  ! "  she  screamed,  her 
voice  high,  flat,  quite  unhuman;  "ah,  God  in 
Heaven  damn  you!"  With  inarticulate  bestial 
cries  she  fell  upon  the  man  who  had  killed  Billy, 
and  her  violet  fripperies  fluttered,  her  impotent 
little  hands  beat  at  him,  tore  at  him.  She  was 
fearless,  shameless,  insane.  She  only  knew  that 
Billy  was  dead. 

With  an  oath  the  man  flung  her  from  him  and 
turned  on  his  heel.  She  fell  to  coaxing  the  heap 
in  the  grass  to  tell  her  that  he  forgave  her — to 
open  his  eyes — to  stop  bloodying  her  dress — to 
come  to  luncheon  . 

A  fly  settled  on  Billy's  face  and  came  in  his  zig 
zag  course  to  the  red  stream  trickling  from  his 
nostrils,  and  stopped  short.  She  brushed  the 
carrion  thing  away,  but  it  crawled  back  drunk- 
enly.  She  touched  it  with  her  finger,  and  the  fly 
would  not  move.  On  a  sudden,  every  nerve  in 
her  body  began  to  shake  and  jerk  like  a  flag 
snapping  in  the  wind. 


XXVI 

SOME  ten  minutes  afterward,  as  the  members 
of  the  house-party  sat  chatting  on  the  terrace 
before  Selwoode,  there  came  among  them  a  mad 
woman  in  violet  trappings  that  were  splotched 
with  blood. 

"Did  you  know  that  Billy  was  dead?"  she 
queried,  smilingly.  "  Oh,  yes,  a  man  killed  Billy 
just  now.  Wasn't  it  too  bad  ?  Billy  was  such  a 
nice  boy,  you  know.  I — I  think  it's  very  sad. 
I  think  it's  the  saddest  thing  I  ever  knew  of  in  my 
life." 

Kathleen  Saumarez  was  the  first  to  reach  her. 
But  she  drew  back  quickly. 

"No,  ah,  no!"  she  said,  with  a  little  shudder. 
"You  didn't  love  Billy.  He  loved  you,  and  you 
didn't  love  him.  Oh,  Kathleen,  Kathleen,  how 
could  you  help  loving  Billy  ?  He  was  such  a  nice 
boy.  I — I'm  rather  sorry  he's  dead." 

Then  she  stood  silent,  picking  at  her  dress 
thoughtfully  and  still  smiling.  Afterward,  for 
the  first  and  only  time  in  history,  Miss  Hugonin 
fainted — fainted  with  an  anxious  smile. 

207 


ao8  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Petheridge  Jukesbury  caught  her  as  she 
fell,  and  began  to  blubber  like  a  whipped 
schoolboy  as  he  stood  there  holding  her  in  his 
arms. 


XXVII 

BUT  Billy  was  not  dead.  There  was  still  a 
feeble,  jerky  fluttering  in  his  big  chest  when 
Colonel  Hugonin  found  him.  His  heart  still 
moved,  but  under  the  Colonel's  hand  its  stirrings 
were  vague  and  aimless  as  those  of  a  captive 
butterfly. 

The  Colonel  had  seen  dead  men  and  dying  men 
before  this ;  and  as  he  bent  over  the  boy  he  loved 
he  gave  a  convulsive  sob,  and  afterward  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

Then — of  all  unlikely  persons  in  the  world — it 
was  Petheridge  Jukesbury  who  rose  to  meet  the 
occasion. 

His  suavity  and  blandness  forgotten  in  the 
presence  of  death,  he  mounted  with  confident 
alacrity  to  heights  of  greatness.  Masterfully, 
he  overrode  them  all.  He  poured  brandy  between 
Billy's  teeth.  Then  he  ordered  the  ladies  off  to 
bed,  and  recommended  to  Mr.  Kennaston — when 
that  gentleman  spoke  of  a  clergyman — a  far  more 
startling  destination. 

For,  "It  is  far  from  my  intention,"  said  Mr. 
209 


2io  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

Jukesbury,  "to  appear  lacking  in  respect  to  the 
cloth,  but — er — just  at  present  I  am  inclined  to 
think  we  are  in  somewhat  greater  need  of  a 
mattress  and  a  doctor  and — ah — the  exercise  of 
a  little  common-sense.  The  gentleman  is — er — 
let  us  hope,  in  no  immediate  danger.  How  dare 
you  suggest  such  a  thing,  sir?"  thundered 
Petheridge  Jukesbury.  "Didn't  you  see  that 
poor  girl's  face?  I  tell  you  I'll  be  damned  if  he 
dies,  sir!" 

And  I  fancy  the  recording  angel  heard  him,  and 
against  a  list  of  wordy  cheats  registered  that 
oath  to  his  credit. 

It  was  Petheridge  Jukesbury,  then,  who  stalked 
into  Mrs.  Haggage's  apartments  and  appropriated 
her  mattress  as  the  first  at  hand,  and  afterward 
waddled  through  the  gardens  bearing  it  on  his 
fat  shoulders,  and  still  later  lifted  Billy  upon  it 
as  gently  as  a  woman  could  have.  But  it  was 
the  hatless  Colonel  on  his  favourite  Black  Bess 
("Damn  your  motor-cars!"  the  Colonel  was 
wont  to  say;  "I  consider  my  appearance  suffi 
ciently  unprepossessing  already,  sir,  without  my 
arriving  in  Heaven  in  fragments  and  stinking  of 
gasoline  !")  who  in  Fairhaven  town,  some  quarter 
of  an  hour  afterward,  leaped  Dr.  Jeal's  garden 
fence,  and  subsequently  bundled  the  doctor  into 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  211 

his  gig ;  and  again  yet  later  it  was  the  Colonel  who 
stood  fuming  upon  the  terrace  with  Dr.  Jeal  on 
his  way  to  Selwoode  indeed,  but  still  some  four 
miles  from  the  mansion  toward  which  he  was 
urging  his  staid  horse  at  its  liveliest  gait. 

Kennaston  tried  to  soothe  him.  But  the 
Colonel  clamoured  to  the  heavens.  Kennaston 
he  qualified  in  various  ways.  And  as  for  Dr. 
Jeal,  he  would  hold  him  responsible — "  personally, 
sir" — for  the  consequences  of  his  dawdling  in 
this  fashion — "Damme,  sir,  like  a  damn'  snail 
with  a  wooden  leg  ! " 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Kennaston,  gravely,  "that 
the  doctor  will  be  of  very  little  use  when  he  does 
arrive." 

There  was  that  in  his  face  which  made  the 
Colonel  pause  in  his  objurgations. 

"Sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  " what— do— you— 
mean?"  He  found  articulation  somewhat  dim- 
cult. 

"In  your  absence,"  Kennaston  answered,  "Mr. 
Jukesbury,  who  it  appears  knows  something  of 
medicine,  has  subjected  Mr.  Woods  to  an  exami 
nation.  It — it  would  be  unkind  to  deceive 
you " 

"Come  to  the  point,  sir,"  the  Colonel  inter 
rupted  him .  ' '  What — do  you — mean  ? ' ' 


212  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"I  mean,"  said  Felix  Kennaston,  sadly,  "that 
— he   is  afraid — Mr.   Woods   will   never  recover 


consciousness." 


Colonel  Hugonin  stared  at  him.  The  skin  of 
his  flabby,  wrinkled  old  throat  was  working  con 
vulsively. 

Then,  " You're  wrong,  sir,"  the  Colonel  said. 
"  Billy  shan't  die.  Damn  Jukesbury  !  Damn  all 
doctors,  too,  sir !  I  put  my  trust  in  my  God,  sir, 
and  not  in  a  box  of  damn'  sugar-pills,  sir.  And 
I  tell  you,  sir,  that  boy  is  not  going  to  die." 

Afterward  he  turned  and  went  into  Selwoode 
defiantly. 


XXVIII 

IN  the  living-hall  the  Colonel  found  Margaret, 
white  as  paper,  with  purple  lips  that  timidly 
smiled  at  him. 

"Why  ain't  you  in  bed?"  the  old  gentleman 
demanded,  with  as  great  an  affectation  of  stern 
ness  as  he  could  muster.  To  say  the  truth,  it  was 
not  much ;  for  Colonel  Hugonin,  for  all  his  bluster 
ing  optimism,  was  sadly  shaken  now. 

"Attractive,"  said  Margaret,  "I  was,  but  I 
couldn't  stay  there.  My — my  brain  won't  stop 
working,  you  see,"  she  complained,  wearily. 
"There's  a  thin  little  whisper  in  the  back  of  it 
that  keeps  telling  me  about  Billy,  and  what  a  liar 
he  is,  and  what  nice  eyes  he  has,  and  how  poor 
Billy  is  dead.  It  keeps  telling  me  that,  over  and 
over  again,  attractive.  It's  such  a  tiresome,  silly 
little  whisper.  But  he  is  dead,  isn't  he  ?  Didn't 
Mr.  Kennaston  tell  me  just  now  that  he  was 
dead  ? — or  was  it  the  whisper,  attractive  ? " 

The  Colonel  coughed.  "  Kennaston — er — Ken- 
naston's  a  fool,"  he  declared,  helplessly.  "  Always 
said  he  was  a  fool.  We'll  have  Jeal  in  presently." 

213 


2i4  THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"No — I  remember  now — Mr.  Kennaston  said 
Billy  would  die  very  soon.  You  don't  like 
people  to  disagree  with  you,  do  you,  attractive? 
Of  course,  he  will  die,  for  the  man  hit  him  very, 
very  hard.  I'm  sorry  Billy  is  going  to  die, 
though,  even  if  he  is  such  a  liar  ! " 

" Don't!"  said  the  Colonel,  hoarsely;  "don't, 
daughter !  I  don't  know  what  there  is  between 
you  and  Billy,  but  you're  wrong.  Oh,  you're 
very  hopelessly  wrong !  Billy's  the  finest  boy  I 
know." 

Margaret  shook  her  head  in  dissent. 

"No,  he's  a  very  contemptible  liar,"  she  said, 
disinterestedly,  "and  that  is  what  makes  it  so 
queer  that  I  should  care  for  him  more  than  I  do 
for  anything  else  in  the  world.  Yes,  it's  very 
queer." 

Then  Margaret  went  into  the  room  opening  into 
the  living-hall,  where  Billy  Woods  lay  uncon 
scious,  pallid,  breathing  stertorously.  And  the 
Colonel  stared  after  her. 

"Oh,  my  God,  my  God!"  groaned  the  poor 
Colonel;  "why  couldn't  it  have  been  I?  Why 
couldn't  it  have  been  I  that  ain't  wanted  any 
longer?  She'd  never  have  grieved  like  that  for 
me!" 

And  indeed,    I  don't  think  she  would  have. 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  215 

For  to  Margaret  there  had  come,  as,  God  willing, 
there  comes  to  every  clean-souled  woman,  the  time 
to  put  away  all  childish  things,  and  all  childish 
memories,  and  all  childish  ties,  if  need  be,  to 
follow  one  man  only,  and  cleave  to  him,  and  know 
his  life  and  hers  to  be  knit  up  together,  past 
severance,  in  a  love  that  death  itself  may  not 
affright  nor  slay. 


XXIX 

SHE  sat  silent  in  one  corner  of  the  darkened 
room.  It  was  the  bedroom  that  Frederick  R. 
Woods  formerly  occupied — on  the  ground  floor 
of  Selwoode,  opening  into  the  living-hall — to 
which  they  had  carried  Billy. 

Jukesbury  had  done  what  he  could.  In  the 
bed  lay  Billy  Woods,  swathed  in  hot  blankets, 
with  bottles  of  hot  water  set  to  his  feet.  Jukes- 
bury  had  washed  his  face  clean  of  that  awful  red, 
and  had  wrapped  bandages  of  cracked  ice  about 
his  head  and  propped  it  high  with  pillows.  It 
was  little  short  of  marvellous  to  see  the  pursy  old 
hypocrite  going  cat-footed  about  the  room  on  his 
stealthy  ministrations,  replenishing  the  bandages, 
forcing  spirits  of  ammonia  between  Billy's  teeth, 
fighting  deftly  and  confidently  with  death. 

Billy  still  breathed. 

The  Colonel  came  and  went  uneasily.  The 
clock  on  the  mantel  ticked.  Margaret  brooded  in 
a  silence  that  was  only  accentuated  by  that 
horrible  wheezing,  gurgling,  tremulous  breathing 
in  the  bed  yonder.  Would  the  doctor  never  come ! 

216 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  217 

She  was  curiously  conscious  of  her  absolute 
lack  of  emotion. 

But  always  the  interminable  thin  whispering  in 
the  back  of  her  head  went  on  and  on.  "  Oh,  if  he 
had  only  died  four  years  ago  !  Oh,  if  he  had  only 
died  the  dear,  clean -minded,  honest  boy  I  used 
to  know !  When  that  noise  stops  he  will  be 
dead.  And  then,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  able  to  cry. 
Oh,  if  he  had  only  died  four  years  ago  ! " 

And  then  da  capo.  On  and  on  ran  the  inter 
minable  thin  whispering  as  Margaret  waited  for 
death  to  come  to  Billy.  Billy  looked  so  old  now, 
under  his  many  bandages.  Surely  he  must  be 
very,  very  near  death. 

Suddenly,  as  Jukesbury  wrapped  new  bandages 
about  his  forehead,  Billy  opened  his  eyes  and, 
without  further  movement,  smiled  placidly  up  at 
him. 

"  Hello,  Jukesbury,"  said  Billy  Woods,  "  where's 
my  armour?" 

Jukesbury,  too,  smiled.  "The  man  is  bringing 
it  downstairs  now,"  he  answered,  quietly. 

"Because,"  Billy  went  on,  fretfully,  "I  don't 
propose  to  miss  the  Trojan  war.  The  princes 
orgulous  with  high  blood  chafed,  you  know,  are 
all  going  to  be  there,  and  I  don't  propose  to 
miss  it." 


218  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

Behind  his  fat  back,  Petheridge  Jukesbury 
waved  a  cautioning  hand  at  Margaret,  who  had 
risen  from  her  chair. 

"But  it  is  very  absurd,"  Billy  murmured,  in 
the  mere  ghost  of  a  voice,  "  because  men  don't 
propose  by  mistake  except  in  farces.  Somebody 
told  me  that,  but  I  can't  remember  who,  because 
I  am  a  misogynist.  That  is  a  Greek  word,  and  I 
would  explain  it  to  Peggy,  if  she  would  only  give 
me  a  chance,  but  she  can't  because  she  has  those 
seventeen  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  children  to 
look  after.  There  must  be  some  way  to  explain 
to  her,  though,  because  where  there's  a  will  there 
is  always  a  way,  and  there  were  three  wills. 
Uncle  Fred  should  not  have  left  so  many  wills — 
who  would  have  thought  the  old  man  had  so  much 
ink  in  him?  But  I  will  be  a  very  great  painter, 
Uncle  Fred,  and  make  her  sorry  for  the  way  she 
has  treated  me,  and  then  Kathleen  will  understand 
I  was  talking  about  Peggy." 

His  voice  died  away,  and  Margaret  sat  with 
wide  eyes  listening  for  it  again.  Would  the 
doctor  never  come ! 

Billy  was  smiling  and  picking  at  the  sheets. 

"  But  Peggy  is  so  rich,"  the  faint  voice  presently 
complained — "  so  beastly  rich  !  There  is  gold  in 
her  hair,  and  if  you  will  look  very  closely  you  will 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  219 

see  that  her  lashes  were  pure  gold  until  she 
dipped  them  in  the  ink-pot.  Besides,  she  expects 
me  to  sit  up  and  beg  for  lumps  of  sugar,  and  I 
never  take  sugar  in  my  coffee.  And  Peggy  doesn't 
drink  coffee  at  all,  so  I  think  it  is  very  unfair, 
especially  as  Teddy  Anstruther  drinks  like  a  fish 
and  she  is  going  to  marry  him.  Peggy,  why 
won't  you  marry  me?  You  know  I've  always 
loved  you,  Peggy,  and  now  I  can  tell  you  so 
because  Uncle  Fred  has  left  me  all  his  money. 
You  think  a  great  deal  about  money,  Peggy. 
You  said  it  was  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world. 
And  it  must  be,  because  it  is  the  only  thing — the 
only  thing,  Peggy — that  has  been  strong  enough 
to  keep  us  apart.  A  part  is  never  greater  than 
the  whole,  Peggy,  but  I  will  explain  about  that 
when  you  open  that  desk.  There  are  sharks  in 
it.  Aren't  there,  Peggy  ? — aren't  there  ? " 

His  voice  had  risen  to  a  querulous  tone.  Gently 
the  fat  old  man  restrained  him. 

"Yes,"  said  Petheridge  Jukesbury;  "dear  me, 
yes.  Why,  dear  me,  of  course." 

But  his  warning  hand  held  Margaret  back — 
Margaret,  who  stood  with  big  tears  trickling  down 
her  cheeks. 

"Dearer  than  life  itself,"  Billy  assented, 
wearily,  "but  before  God,  loving  you  as  I  do,  1 


220  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

wouldn't  marry  you  now  for  all  the  wealth  in  the 
world.  I  forget  why,  but  all  the  world  is  a  stage, 
you  know,  and  they  don't  use  stages  now,  but 
only  railroads.  Is  that  why  you  rail  at  me  so, 
Peggy  ?  That  is  a  joke.  You  ought  to  laugh  at 
my  jokes,  because  I  love  you,  but  I  can't  ever, 
ever  tell  you  so  because  you  are  rich.  A  rich 
man  cannot  pass  through  a  needle's  eye.  Oh, 
Peggy,  Peggy,  I  love  your  eyes,  but  they're  so 
big,  Peggy!" 

So  Billy  Woods  lay  still  and  babbled  cease 
lessly.  But  through  all  his  irrelevant  talk,  as  you 
may  see  a  tributary  stream  pulse  unsullied  in  a 
muddied  river,  ran  the  thought  of  Peggy — of 
Peggy,  and  of  her  cruelty,  and  of  her  beauty,  and 
of  the  money  that  stood  between  them. 

And  Margaret,  who  could  never  have  believed 
him  in  his  senses,  listened  and  knew  that  in  his 
delirium,  the  rudder  of  his  thoughts  snapped,  he 
could  not  but  speak  truth.  As  she  crouched  in 
the  corner  of  the  room,  her  face  buried  in  an  arm 
chair,  her  gold  hair  half  loosened,  her  shoulders 
monotonously  heaving,  she  wept  gently,  inaudibly, 
almost  happily. 

Almost  happily.  Billy  was  dying,  but  she 
knew  now,  past  any  doubting,  that  he  loved  her. 
The  dear,  clean-minded,  honest  boy  had  come 


Regarded  them  with  alert  eyes. 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  221 

back  to  her,  and  she  could  love  him  now  without 
shame,  and  there  was  only  herself  to  be  loathed. 

Then  the  door  opened.  Then,  with  Colonel 
Hugonin,  came  Martin  Jeal — a  wisp  of  a  man  like 
a  November  leaf — and  regarded  them  from  under 
his  shaggy  white  hair  with  alert  eyes. 

"  Hey,  what's  this  ? "  said  Dr.  Jeal.  "  Eh,  yes  ! 
•Eh — yes!"  he  meditated,  slowly.  "Most  ir 
regular.  You  must  let  us  have  the  room,  Miss 
Hugonin." 

In  the  hall  she  waited.  Hope !  ah,  of  course, 
there  was  no  hope !  the  thin  little  whisper  told 
her. 

By  and  bye,  though — after  centuries  of  waiting 
— the  three  men  came  into  the  hall. 

':Miss  Hugonin,"  said  Dr.  Jeal,  with  a  strange 
kindness  in  his  voice,  "  I  don't  think  we  shall  need 
you  again.  I  am  happy  to  tell  you,  though,  that 
the  patient  is  doing  nicely — very  nicely  indeed." 

Margaret  clutched  his  arm.  "You — you 
mean " 


"I  mean,"  said  Dr.  Jeal,  "that  there  is  no 
fracture.  A  slight  concussion  of  the  brain, 
madam,  and — so  far  as  I  can  see — no  signs  of 
inflammation.  Barring  accidents,  1  think  we'll 


222  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

have  that  young  man  out  of  bed  in  a  week. 
Thanks,"  he  added,  "to  Mr. — er — Jukesbury  here 
whose  prompt  action  was,  under  Heaven,  un 
doubtedly  the  means  of  staving  off  meningitis  and 
probably  —  indeed,  more  than  probably  —  the 
means  of  saving  Mr.  Woods's  life.  It  was 
splendid,  sir,  splendid !  No  doctor — why,  God 
bless  my  soul !" 

For  Miss  Hugonin  had  thrown  her  arms  about 
Petheridge  Jukesbury 's  neck  and  had  kissed  him 
vigorously. 

4 'You  beautiful  child !"  said  Miss  Hugonin. 

"Er — Jukesbury,"  said  the  Colonel,  mysteri 
ously,  "  there's  a  little  cognac  in  the  cellar  that — 

er "  The  Colonel  jerked  his  thumb  across 

the  hallway  with  the  air  of  a  conspirator.  "  Eh  ? " 
said  the  Colonel. 

"Why — er — yes,"  said  Mr.  Jukesbury.  "Why 
— ah — yes,  I  think  I  might." 

They  went  across  the  hall  together.  The 
Colonel's  hand  rested  fraternally  on  Petheridge 
Jukesbury 's  shoulder. 


XXX 

THE  next  day  there  was  a  general  exodus  from 
Selwoode,  and  Margaret's  satellites  dispersed  upon 
their  divers  ways.  Selwoode,  as  they  understood 
it,  was  no  longer  hers ;  and  they  knew  Billy  Woods 
well  enough  to  recognise  that  from  Selwoode 's 
new  master  there  were  no  desirable  pickings  to 
be  had  such  as  the  philanthropic  crew  had  fattened 
on  these  four  years  past.  So  there  came  to  them, 
one  and  all,  urgent  telegrams  or  insistent  letters 
or  some  equally  unanswerable  demand  for  their 
presence  elsewhere,  such  as  are  usually  prevalent 
among  our  guests  in  very  dull  or  very  troublous 
times. 

Miss  Hugonin  smiled  a  little  bitterly.  She 
considered  that  the  scales  had  fallen  from  her 
eyes,  and  flattered  herself  that  she  was  by  way 
of  becoming  a  bit  of  a  misanthrope;  also,  I 
believe,  there  was  a  note  concerning  the  hollowness 
of  life  and  the  worthlessness  of  society  in  general. 
In  a  word,  Margaret  fell  back  upon  the  extreme 
cynicism  and  world-weariness  of  twenty-three, 
and  assured  herself  that  she  despised  everybody, 

223 


224  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

whereas^  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  never  in  her  life  suc 
ceeded  in  disliking  anything  except  mice  and  piano- 
practice,  and,  for  a  very  little  while,  Billy  Woods ; 
and  this  for  the  very  excellent  reason  that  the 
gods  had  fashioned  her  solely  to  the  end  that  she 
might  love  all  mankind,  and  in  return  be  loved 
by  humanity  in  general  and  adored  by  that 
portion  of  it  which  inhabits  trousers. 

But,  "The  rats  always  desert  a  sinking  ship," 
said  Miss  Hugonin,  with  the  air  of  one  delivering 
a  particularly  original  sentiment.  "They  make 
me  awfully  tired,  and  I  don't  care  for  them  in  the 
least.  But  Petheridge  Jukesbury  is  a  dear,  and 
I  may  be  poor  now,  but  I  did  try  to  do  good  with 
the  money  when  I  had  it,  and  anyhow,  Billy  is 
going  to  get  well." 

And,  after  all,  that  was  the  one  thing  that 
really  mattered,  though  of  course  Billy  would 
always  despise  her.  He  would  be  quite  right, 
too,  the  girl  thought  humbly. 

But  the  conventionalities  of  life  are  more 
powerful  than  even  youthful  cynicism  and  youth 
ful  heart-break.  Prior  to  devoting  herself  to  a 
loveless  life  and  the  commonplaces  of  the  stoic's 
tub,  Miss  Hugonin  was  compelled  by  the  barest 
decency  to  bid  her  guests  Godspeed. 

And  Adele  Haggage  kissed  her  for  the  first 


THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW  225 

time  in  her  life.  She  had  been  a  little  awed  by 
Miss  Hugonin,  the  famous  heiress — a  little  jealous 
of  her,  I  dare  say,  on  account  of  Hugh  Van  Orden 
— but  now  she  kissed  her  very  heartily  in  fare 
well,  and  said,  "  Don't  forget  you  are  to  come  to 
us  as  soon  as  possible,"  and  was  beyond  any 
question  perfectly  sincere  in  saying  it. 

And  Hugh  Van  Orden  almost  dragged  Margaret 
under  the  main  stairway,  and,  far  from  showing 
any  marked  abhorrence  to  her  in  her  present 
state  of  destitution,  implored  her  with  tears  in 
his  eyes  to  marry  him  at  once,  and  to  bring  the 
Colonel  to  live  with  them  for  the  rest  of  his 
natural  existence. 

For,  "  It's  damned  impertinent  of  me,  of  course," 
Mr.  Van  Orden  readily  conceded,  "and  I  suppose 
I  ought  to  beg  your  pardon  for  mentioning  it,  but 
I  do  love  you  to  a  perfectly  unlimited  extent. 
It's  playing  the  very  deuce  with  my  polo,  Miss 
Hugonin,  and  as  for  my  appetite — why,  if  you 
won't  have  me,"  cried  Hugh,  in  desperation,  "I 
— I  really,  you  know,  I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  be 
able  to  eat  anything !" 

When  Margaret  refused  him — for  the  sixth 
time,  I  think — I  won't  swear  that  she  didn't  kiss 
him  under  the  dark  stairway.  And  if  she  did, 
he  was  a  nice  boy,  and  he  deserved  it. 


226  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

And  as  for  Sarah  Ellen  Haggage,  that  un- 
reverend  old  parasite  brought  her  a  blank  cheque 
signed  with  her  name,  and  mentioned  quite  a 
goodly  sum  as  the  extent  to  which  Margaret 
might  go  for  necessary  expenses. 

"For  you'll  need  it,"  she  said,  and  rubbed  her 
nose  reflectively.  "Moving  is  the  very  deuce 
for  wasting  money,  because  so  many  little  things 
keep  cropping  up.  Now,  remember,  a  quarter 
is  quite  enough  to  give  any  man  for  moving  a 
trunk.  And  there's  no  earthly  sense  in  your 
taking  a  cab,  Margaret — the  street-car  will 
bring  you  within  a  block  of  our  door.  These 
little  trifles  count,  dear.  And  don't  let  Celestine 
pack  your  things,  because  she's  abominably 
careless.  Let  Marie  do  it — and  don't  tip  her. 
Give  her  an  old  hat.  And  if  I  were  you,  I  would 
certainly  consult  a  lawyer  about  the  legality  of 
that  idiotic  will.  I  remember  distinctly  hearing 
that  Mr.  Woods  was  very  eccentric  in  his  last  days, 
and  I  haven't  a  doubt  he  was  raving  mad  when 
he  left  all  his  money  to  a  great,  strapping,  long- 
legged  young  fellow,  who  is  perfectly  capable  of 
taking  care  of  himself.  Getting  better,  is  he? 
Well,  I  suppose  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  but  he'd  much 
better  have  stayed  in  Paris — where,  I  remember 
distinctly  hearing,  he  led  the  most  dissipated  and 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  227 

immoral  life,  my  dear — instead  of  coming  over 
here  and  upsetting  everything."  And  again  Mrs. 
Haggage  rubbed  her  nose — indignantly. 

"He  didn't!"  said  Margaret.  "And  I  can't 
take  your  money,  beautiful !  And  I  don't  see 
how  we  can  possibly  come  to  stay  with  you." 

"Don't  you  argue  with  me!"  Mrs.  Haggage 
exhorted  her.  "I'm  not  in  any  temper  to  be 
argued  with.  I've  spent  the  morning  sewing  bias 
stripes  in  a  bias  skirt — something  which  from  a 
moral-ruining  and  resolution-overthrowing  stand 
point  simply  knocks  the  spots  off  Job.  You'll 
take  that  money,  and  you'll  come  to  me  as  soon 
as  you  can,  and — God  bless  you,  my  dear ! " 

And  again  Margaret  was  kissed.  Altogether, 
it  was  a  very  oscillatory  morning  for  Miss  Hugonin. 

Mr.  Jukesbury's  adieus,  however,  were  more 
formal ;  and — I  am  sorry  to  say  it — the  old  fellow 
went  away  wondering  if  the  rich  Mr.  Woods 
might  not  conceivably  be  very  grateful  to  the 
man  who  had  saved  his  life  and  evince  his  grati 
tude  in  some  agreeable  and  substantial  form. 

Mrs.  Saumarez  and  Mr.  Kennaston,  also,  were 
somewhat  unenthusiastic  in  their  parting.  Ken 
naston  could  not  feel  quite  at  ease  with  Margaret, 
brazen  it  as  he  might  with  devil-may-carish 
flippancy;  and  Kathleen  had  by  this  an  inkling 


228  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

as  to  how  matters  stood  between  Margaret  and 
Billy,  and  was  somewhat  puzzled  thereat,  and 
loved  the  former  in  consequence  no  more  than  any 
Christian  female  is  compelled  to  love  the  woman 
who,  either  unconsciously  or  with  deliberation, 
purloins  her  ancient  lover.  A  woman  rarely  for 
gives  the  man  who  has  ceased  to  care  for  her; 
and  rarelier  still  can  she  pardon  the  woman  who 
has  dared  succeed  her  in  his  affections. 

And  besides,  they  were  utterly  engrossed  with 
one  another,  and  utterly  happy,  and  utterly 
selfish  with  the  immemorial  selfishness  of  lovers, 
who  cannot  for  a  moment  conceive  that  the 
whole  world  is  not  somehow  benefited  by  their 
happiness  and  does  not  await  with  breathless 
interest  the  outcome  of  their  bickerings  with  the 
blind  bow-god,  and  from  this  providential  de 
lusion  derive  a  meritorious  and  comfortable  glow. 
So  Mrs.  Saumarez  and  Mr.  Kennaston  parted 
from  Margaret  with  kindness,  it  is  true,  but  not 
without  awkwardness. 

And  that  was  the  man  that  almost  she  had 
loved !  thought  Margaret,  as  she  gazed  on  the 
whirl  of  dust  left  by  their  carriage-wheels.  Gone 
with  a  few  perfunctory  words  of  sympathy ! 

And  for  my  part,  I  think  that  the  base  Indian 
who  threw  a  pearl  away  worth  more  than  all  his 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  229 

tribe  was,  in  comparison  with  Felix  Kennaston,  a 
shrewd  and  long-headed  man.  If  you  had  given 
me  his  chances,  Margaret  .  .  .  but  this, 
however,  is  highly  digressive. 

The  Colonel,  standing  beside  her,  used  language 
that  was  unrefined.  His  aspirations  as  to  the 
future  of  Mr.  Kennaston  and  Mr.  Jukesbury,  it 
appeared,  were  both  lurid  and  unfriendly. 

"But  why,  attractive?"  queried  his  daughter. 

"May  they  be  qualified  with  such  and  such 
adjectives!"  desired  the  Colonel,  fervently. 
"They  tried  to  lend  me  money — wouldn't  hear 
of  my  not  taking  it !  '  In  case  of  necessity. ' 
Bah ! ' '  said  the  Colonel,  and  shook  his  fist  after 
the  retreating  carriages.  "  May  they  be  qualified 
with  such  and  such  adjectives !" 

How  happily  she  laughed  !  "  And  you're  swear 
ing  at  them!"  she  pouted.  "Oh,  my  dear,  my 
dear,  how  hard  you  are  on  all  my  little  friends !" 

"Of  course  I  am,"  said  the  Colonel,  stoutly. 
"They've  deprived  me  of  the  pleasure  of  de 
spising  'em.  It  was  worth  double  the  money,  I 
tell  you !  I  never  objected  to  any  men  quite  so 
much.  And  now  they've  gone  and  behaved  de 
cently  with  the  deliberate  purpose  of  annoying 
me!  Oh!"  cried  the  Colonel,  and  shook  an 
immaculate,  withered  old  hand  toward  the  spring 


23o  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

sky,  "may  they  be  qualified  with  such  and  such 
adjectives !" 

And  that,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned,  was  the 
end  of  Margaret's  satellites. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Grundy,  may  one  point  the 
somewhat  obvious  moral  ?  I  thank  you,  madam, 
for  your  long-suffering  kindness.  Permit  me, 
then,  to  vault  toward  my  moral  over  the  shoulders 
of  a  greater  man. 

Among  the  papers  left  by  one  Charles  Dickens 
— a  novelist  who  is  obsolete  now  because  he 
"wallows  naked  in  the  pathetic"  and  was  fre 
quently  guilty  of  a  very  vulgar  sort  of  humour 
that  actually  made  people  laugh,  which,  as  we 
now  know,  is  not  the  purpose  of  humour — a 
novelist  who  incessantly  "caricatured  Nature" 
and  by  these  inartistic  and  underhand  methods 
created  characters  that  are  more  real  to  us  than 
the  folk  we  jostle  in  the  street  and  (God  knows  !) 
far  more  vital  and  worthy  of  attention  than  the 
folk  who  "cannot  read  Dickens" — you  will  find, 
I  say,  a  note  of  an  idea  which  he  never  afterward 
developed,  running  to  this  effect :  "  Full  length 
portrait  of  his  lordship,  surrounded  by  wor 
shippers.  Sensible  men  enough,  agreeable  men 
enough,  independent  men  enough'  in  a  certain 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  231 

way;  but  the  moment  they  begin  to  circle  round 
my  lord,  and  to  shine  with  a  borrowed  light  from 
his  lordship,  heaven  and  earth,  how  mean  and 
subservient !  What  a  competition  and  out 
bidding  of  each  other  in  servility  ! " 

And  this,  with  "my  lord"  and  "his  lordship" 
erased  to  make  way  for  the  word  "  money, "  is  my 
moral.  The  folk  who  have  just  left  Selwoode 
were  honest  enough  as  honesty  goes  nowadays; 
kindly  as  any  of  us  dare  be  who  have  our  own 
way  to  make  among  very  stalwart  and  determined 
rivals;  generous  as  any  man  may  venture  to 
be  in  a  world  where  the  first  of  every  month 
finds  the  butcher  and  the  baker  and  the 
candlestick-maker  rapping  at  the  door  with 
their  little  bills:  but  they  cringed  to  money. 
It  was  very  wrong  of  them,  my  dear  lady, 
and  in  extenuation  I  can  only  plead  that  they 
could  no  more  help  cringing  to  money  than  you 
or  I  can  help  it. 

This  is  very  crude  and  very  cynical,  but  un 
fortunately  it  is  true. 

We  always  cringe  to  money ;  which  is  humiliat 
ing.  And  the  sun  always  rises  at  an  hour  when 
sensible  people  are  abed  and  have  not  the  least 
need  for  its  services ;  which  is  foolish.  And  what 
you  and  I,  my  dear  madam,  are  to  do  about 


232  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

rectifying  either  one  of  these  vexatious  circum 
stances,  I  am  sure  I  don't  know. 

We  can,  at  least,  be  honest.  Let  us,  then, 
console  ourselves  at  will  with  moral  observations 
concerning  the  number  of  pockets  in  a  shroud  and 
the  difficulty  of  a  rich  man's  entering  into  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven;  but  with  an  humble  and 
reverent  heart,  let  us  admit  that,  in  the  world  we 
know,  money  rules.  Its  presence  awes  us.  And 
if  we  are  quite  candid  we  must  concede  that  we 
very  unfeignedly  envy  and  admire  the  rich;  we 
must  grant  that  money  confers  a  certain  dis 
tinction  on  a  man,  be  he  the  veriest  ass  that  ever 
heehawed  a  platitude,  and  that  we  cannot  but 
treat  him  accordingly,  you  and  I.v 

You  are  friendly,  of  course,  with  your  poor 
cousins;  you  are  delighted  to  have  them  drop  in 
to  dinner,  and  liberal  enough  with  the  claret 
when  they  do;  but  when  the  magnate  comes, 
there  is  a  magnum  of  champagne,  and  an  extra 
lamp  in  the  drawing-room,  and — I  blush  to  write 
it — a  far  more  agreeable  hostess  at  the  head  of 
the  table.  Dives  is  such  good  company,  you  see. 
And  speaking  for  my  own  sex,  I  defy  any  honest 
fellow  to  lay  his  hand  upon  his  waistcoat  and 
swear  that  it  doesn't  give  him  a  distinct  thrill  of 
pleasure  to  be  seen  in  public  with  a  millionaire. 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  233 

Daily  we  truckle  in  the  Eagle's  shadow — the 
shadow  that  lay  so  heavily  across  Selwoode. 
With  the  Eagle  himself  and  with  the  Eagle's  work 
in  the  world — the  grim,  implacable,  ruthless  work 
that  hourly  he  goes  about — our  little  comedy  has 
naught  to  do;  Schlemihl-like,  we  deal  but  in 
shadows.  Even  the  shadow  of  the  Eagle  is  a 
terrible  thing — a  shadow  that,  as  Felix  Kennaston 
has  told  you,  chills  faith,  and  charity,  and  inde 
pendence,  and  kindliness,  and  truth,  and — alas — 
even  common  honesty. 

But  this  is  both  cynical  and  digressive. 


XXXI 

DR.  JEAL,  better  than  his-  word,  had  Billy 
Woods  out  of  bed  in  five  days.  To  Billy  they 
were  very  long  and  very  dreary  days,  and  to 
Margaret  very  long  and  penitential  ones.  But 
Colonel  Hugonin  enjoyed  them  thoroughly;  for, 
as  he  feelingly  and  frequently  observed,  it  is  an 
immense  consolation  to  any  man  to  reflect  that 
his  home  no  longer  contains  "more  damn'  foolish 
ness  to  the  square  inch  than  any  other  house  in 
the  United  States." 

On  all  sides  they  sought  for  Cock-eye  Flinks. 
But  they  never  found  him,  and  to  this  day  they 
have  never  found  him.  The  Fates  having  played 
their  pawn,  swept  it  from  the  board,  and  Cock-eye 
Flinks  disappeared  in  Clotho's  capacious  pocket. 

All  this  time  the  young  people  saw  nothing  of 
one  another.  On  this  point  Jeal  was  adamantean. 

"In  a  sick-room,"  he  vehemently  declared, 
"a  woman  is  well  enough,  but  the  woman  is  the 
devil  and  all.  I've  told  that  young  man  plainly, 
sir,  that  he  doesn't  see  your  daughter  till  he  gets 
well — and,  by  George,  sir,  he'll  get  well  now  just 

234 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  235 

in  order  to  see  her.  Nature  is  the  only  doctor 
who  ever  cures  anybody,  Colonel;  we  humans, 
for  all  our  pill-boxes  and  lancets,  can  only  prompt 
her — and  devilish  demoralising  advice  we  generally 
give  her,  too,"  he  added,  with  a  chuckle. 

"Peggy!" 

This  was  the  first  observation  of  Mr.  Woods 
when  he  came  to  his  senses.  He  swore  feebly 
when  Peggy  was  denied  to  him.  He  pleaded. 
He  scolded.  He  even  threatened,  as  a  last  resort, 
to  get  out  of  bed  and  go  in  immediate  search  of 
her;  and  in  return,  Jeal  told  him  very  affably  that 
it  was  far  less  difficult  to  manage  a  patient  in  a 
straight- jacket  than  one  out  of  it,  and  that 
personally  nothing  would  please  him  so  much  as 
a  plausible  pretext  for  clapping  Mr.  Woods  into 
one  of  'em.  Jeal  had  his  own  methods  in  dealing 
with  the  fractious. 

Then  Billy  clamoured  for  Colonel  Hugonin,  and 
subsequently  the  Colonel  came  in  some  bewilder 
ment  to  his  daughter's  rooms. 

"Billy  says  that  will  ain't  to  be  probated,"  he 
informed  her,  testily.  "  I'm  to  make  sure  it  ain't 
probated  till  he  gets  well.  You're  to  give  me 
your  word  you'll  do  nothing  further  in  the  matter 
till  Billy  gets  well.  That's  his  message,  and  I'd 


236  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

like  to  know  what  the  devil  this  infernal  nonsense 
means.  I  ain't  a  Fenian  nor  yet  a  Guy  Fawkes, 
daughter,  and  in  consequence  I'm  free  to  confess 
I  don't  care  for  all  this  damn'  mystery  and  shilly 
shallying.  But  that's  the  message." 

Miss  Hugonin  debated  with  herself.  "That  I 
will  do  nothing  further  in  the  matter  till  Billy 
gets  well,"  she  repeated,  reflectively.  "Yes,  I 
suppose  I'll  have  to  promise  it,  but  you  can  tell 
him  for  me  that  I  consider  he  is  horrid,  and  just 
as  obstinate  and  selfish  as  he  can  possibly  be. 
Can  you  remember  that,  attractive?" 

"Yes,  thank  you,"  said  the  Colonel.  "I  can 
remember  it,  but  I  ain't  going  to.  Nice  sort  of 
message  to  send  a  sick  man,  ain't  it?  I  don't 
know  what's  gotten  into  you,  Margaret — no, 
begad,  I  don't !  I  think  you're  possessed  of 
seventeen  devils.  And  now,"  the  old  gentleman 
demanded,  after  an  awkward  pause,  "are  you 
or  are  you  not  going  to  tell  me  what  all  this 
mystery  is  about?" 

"I  can't,"  Miss  Hugonin  protested.  "It— it's 
a  secret,  attractive." 

"It  ain't,"  said  the  Colonel,  flatly — "it's  some 
more  damn'  foolishness."  And  he  went  away 
in  a  fret  and  using  language. 


XXXII 

LEFT  to  herself,  Miss  Hugonin  meditated. 

Miss  Hugonin  was  in  her  kimono. 

And  oh,  Madame  Chrysastheme !  oh,  Madame 
Butterfly  !  Oh,  Mimosa  San,  and  Pitti  Sing,  and 
Yum  Yum,  and  all  ye  vaunted  beauties  of  Japan  ! 
if  you  could  have  seen  her  in  that  garb  !  Poor 
little  ladies  of  the  Orient,  how  hopelessly  you 
would  have  wrung  your  henna-stained  fingers ! 
Poor  little  Ichabods  of  the  East,  whose  glory 
departed  irretrievably  when  she  adopted  this 
garment,  I  tremble  to  think  of  the  heart-burnings 
and  palpitations  and  hari-karis  that  would  have 
ensued. 

It  was  pink — the  pink  of  her  cheeks  to  a  shade. 
And  scattered  about  it  were  birds,  and  butterflies, 
and  snaky,  emaciated  dragons,  with  backs  like 
saw-teeth,  and  prodigious  fangs,  and  claws,  and 
very  curly  tails,  such  as  they  breed  in  Nankeen 
plates  and  used  to  breed  on  packages  of  fire 
crackers — all  done  in  gold,  the  gold  of  her  hair. 
Moreover,  one  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  neck — 
which  was  a  manifest  favour  of  the  gods — and 

237 


238  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

about  it  mysterious,  lacy  white  things  inter 
mingling  with  divers  tiny  blue  ribbons.  I  saw 
her  in  it  once — by  accident. 

And  now  I  fancy,  as  she  stood  rigid  with  in 
dignation,  her  cheeks  flushed,  it  must  have  been 
a  heady  spectacle  to  note  how  their  shell-pink 
repeated  the  pink  of  her  fantastic  garment  like  a 
chromatic  echo;  and  how  her  sunny  hair,  a 
thought  loosened,  a  shade  dishevelled,  clung 
heavily  about  her  face,  a  golden  snare  for  eye  and 
heart ;  and  how  her  own  eyes,  enormous,  cerulean 
— twin  sapphires  such  as  in  the  old  days  might  have 
ransomed  a  brace  of  emperors — grew  wistful  like 
a  child's  who  has  been  punished  and  does  not 
know  exactly  why;  and  how  her  petulant  mouth 
quivered  and  the  long  black  lashes,  golden  at  the 
roots,  quivered,  too — ah,  yes,  it  must  have  been 
a  heady  spectacle. 

"Now,"  she  announced,  "I  see  plainly  what  he 
intends  doing.  He  is  going  to  destroy  that  will, 
and  burden  me  once  more  with  a  large  and  in 
fluential  fortune.  I  don't  want  it,  and  I  won't 
take  it,  and  he  might  just  as  well  understand  that 
in  the  very  beginning.  I  don't  care  if  Uncle  Fred 
did  leave  it  to  me — I  didn't  ask  him  to,  did  I? 
Besides,  he  was  a  very  foolish  old  man — if  he  had 
left  the  money  to  Billy  everything  would  have  been 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  239 

all  right.  That's  always  the  way — my  dolls  are 
invariably  stuffed  with  sawdust,  and  I  never  have 
a  dear  gazelle  to  glad  me  with  his  dappled  hide, 
but  when  he  comes  to  know  me  well  he  falls  upon 
the  buttered  side — or  something  to  that  effect. 
I  hate  poetry,  anyhow — it's  so  mushy  ! " 

And  this  from  the  Miss  Hugonin  who  a  week 
ago  was  interested  in  the  French  decadents  and 
partial  to  folk-songs  from  the  Romaic !  I  think 
we  may  fairly  deduce  that  the  reign  of  Felix 
Kennaston  is  over.  The  king  is  dead;  and 
Margaret's  thoughts  and  affections  and  her  very 
dreams  have  fallen  loyally  to  crying,  Long  live 
the  king — his  Majesty  Billy  the  First. 

"Oh!"  said  Margaret,  with  an  indignant  gasp, 
what  time  her  eyebrows  gesticulated,  "I  think 
Billy  Woods  is  a  meddlesome  piece! — that's  what 
I  think !  Does  he  suppose  that  after  waiting  all 
this  time  for  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  can 
keep  me  interested  for  four  hours  on  a  stretch  and 
send  my  pulse  up  to  a  hundred  and  make  me  feel 
those  thrilly  thrills  I've  always  longed  for — does 
he  suppose  that  now  I'm  going  to  pay  any  atten 
tion  to  his  silly  notions  about  wills  and  things? 
He's  abominably  selfish!  I  shan't!" 

Margaret  moved  across  the  room,  shimmering, 
rustling,  glittering  like  a  fairy  in  a  pantomime. 


240  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

Then,  to  consider  matters  at  greater  ease,  she 
curled  up  on  a  divan  in  much  the  attitude  of  a 
tiny  Cleopatra  riding  at  anchor  on  a  carpeted 
Cydnus. 

"Billy  thinks  I  want  the  money — bless  his 
boots!  He  thinks  I'm  a  stuck-up,  grasping, 
purse-proud  little  pig,  and  he  has  every  right  to 
think  so  after  the  way  I  talked  to  him,  though  he 
ought  to  have  realised  I  was  in  a  temper  about 
Kathleen  Saumarez  and  have  paid  no  attention  to 
what  I  said.  And  he  actually  attempted  to 
reason  with  me !  If  he'd  had  any  consideration 
for  my  feelings,  he'd  have  simply  smacked  me  and 
made  me  behave — however,  he's  a  man,  and  all 
men  are  selfish,  and  she's  a  skinny  old  thing,  and 
I  never  had  any  use  for  her.  Bother  her  lectures  ! 
I  never  understood  a  word  of  them,  and  I  don't 
believe  she  does,  either.  Women's  clubs  are  all 
silly,  and  I  think  the  women  who  belong  to  them 
are  all  bold-faced  jigs !  If  they  had  any  sense, 
they'd  stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  the  babies, 
instead  of  messing  with  philanthropy,  and  educa 
tion,  and  theosophy,  and  anything  else  that  they 
can't  make  head  or  tail  of.  And  they  call  that 
being  cultured  !  Culture  ! — I  hate  the  word  !  I 
don't  want  to  be  cultured — I  want  to  be  happy." 

This,  you  will  observe,  was,  in  effect,  a  sweeping 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  241 

recantation  of  every  ideal  Margaret  had  ever 
boasted.  But  Love  is  a  canny  pedagogue,  and 
of  late  he  had  instructed  Miss  Hugonin  in  a 
variety  of  matters. 

"Before  God,  loving  you  as  I  do,  I  wouldn't 
marry  you  for  all  the  wealth  in  the  world,"  she 
repeated,  with  a  little  shiver.  "Even  in  his 
delirium  he  said  that.  But  I  know  now  that  he 
loves  me.  And  I  know  that  I  adore  him.  And  if 
this  were  a  sensible  world,  I'd  walk  right  in  there 
and  explain  things  and  ask  him  to  marry  me, 
and  then  it  wouldn't  matter  in  the  least  who  had 
the  money.  But  I  can't,  because  it  wouldn't  be 
proper.  Bother  propriety ! — but  bothering  it 
doesn't  do  any  good.  As  long  as  I  have  the 
money,  Billy  will  never  come  near  me,  because  of 
the  idiotic  way  I  talked  to  him.  And  he's  bent 
on  my  taking  the  money  simply  because  it  happens 
to  belong  to  me.  I  consider  that  a  very  silly 
reason.  I'll  make  Billy  Woods  take  the  money, 
and  I'll  make  him  see  that  I'm  not  a  little  pig,  and 
that  I  trust  him  implicitly.  And  I  think  I'm 
quite  justified  in  using  a  little — we'll  call  it 
diplomacy — because  otherwise  he'd  go  back  to 
France  or  some  other  objectionable  place,  and 
we'd  both  be  very  unhappy." 

Margaret  began  to  laugh  softly.     "I've  given 


242  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

him  my  word  that  I'll  do  nothing  further  in  the 

matter  till  he  gets  well.     And  I  won't.     But " 

Miss  Hugonin  rose  from  the  divan  with  a 
gesture  of  sweeping  back  her  hair.  And  then— 
oh,  treachery  of  tortoise-shell !  oh,  the  villainy  of 
those  little  gold  hair-pins !— the  fat  twisted  coils 
tumbled  loose  and  slowly  unravelled  themselves, 
and  her  pink-and-white  face,  half-eclipsed,  showed 
a  delectable  wedge  between  big,  odourful,  crinkly, 
ponderous  masses  of  hair.  It  clung  about  her, 
a  heavy  cloak,  all  shimmering  gold  like  the  path 
of  sunset  over  the  June  sea.  And  Margaret, 
looking  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  laughed,  and 
appeared  perfectly  content  with  what  she  saw 
there. 

"  But,"  said  she,  "  if  the  Fates  are  kind  to  me— 
and  I  sometimes  think  I  have  a  pull  with  the  gods 
—I'll  make  you  happy,  Billy  Woods,  in  spite  of 
yourself." 

The  mirror  flashed  back  a  smile.  Margaret  was 
strangely  interested  in  the  mirror. 

"She  has  ringlets  in  her  hair,"  sang  Margaret 
happily— a  low,  half-hushed  little  song.  She 
held  up  a  strand  of  it  to  demonstrate  this  fact. 

"There's  a  dimple  in  her  chin"— and,  indeed, 
there  was.  And  a  dimple  in  either  cheek,  too. 

For  a  long  time   afterward   she  continued  to 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  243 

smile  at  the  mirror.  I  am  afraid  Kathleen 
Saumarez  was  right.  She  was  a  vain  little  cat, 
was  Margaret. 

But,  barring  a  rearrangement  of  the  cosmic 
scheme,  I  dare  say  maids  will  continue  to  delight 
in  their  own  comeliness  so  long  as  mirrors  speak 
truth.  Let  us,  then,  leave  Miss  Hugonin  to  this 
innocent  diversion.  The  staidest  of  us  are  con 
scious  of  a  brisk  elation  at  sight  of  a  pretty  face  ; 
and  surely  no  considerate  person  will  deny  its 
owner  a  portion  of  the  pleasure  that  daily  she 
accords  the  beggar  at  the  street-corner. 


XXXIII 

WE  are  credibly  informed  that  Time  travels  in 
divers  paces  with  divers  persons — the  statement 
being  made  by  a  lady  who  may  be  considered  to 
speak  with  some  authority,  having  triumphantly 
withstood  the  ravages  of  Chronos  for  a  matter  of 
three  centuries.  But  I  doubt  if  even  the  insolent 
sweet  wit  of  Rosalind  could  have  devised  a 
fitting  simile  for  Time's  gait  at  Selwoode  those 
five  days  that  Billy  lay  abed.  Margaret  could 
not  but  marvel  at  the  flourishing  proportion 
attained  by  the  hours  in  those  sunlit  spring  days ; 
and  at  dinner,  say,  her  thoughts  harking  back 
to  luncheon,  recalled  it  by  a  vigorous  effort  as 
an  affair  of  the  dim  yester-years — a  mere  blurred 
memory,  faint  and  vague  as  a  Druidical  tenet  or  a 
Merovingian  squabble. 

But  the  time  passed  for  all  that;  and, 
eventually — it  was  just  before  dusk — she  came, 
with  Martin  Jeal's  permission,  into  the  room 
where  Billy  was.  And  beside  the  big  open 
fireplace,  where  a  wood  fire  chattered  com- 
panionably,  sat  a  very  pallid  Billy,  a  rather 

244 


THE   EAGLE'S  SHADOW  245 

thin  Billy,  with  a  great  many  bandages  about 
his  head. 

You  may  depend  upon  it,  Margaret  was  not 
looking  her  worst  that  afternoon.  By  actual 
count,  Celestine  had  done  her  hair  six  times  before 
reaching  an  acceptable  result. 

And,  "Yes,  Celestine,  you  may  get  out  that 
pale  yellow  dress.  No,  beautiful,  the  one  with 
the  black  satin  stripes  on  the  bodice — because  I 
don't  want  my  hair  cast  completely  in  the  shade, 
do  I  ?  Now,  let  me  see — black  feather,  gloves, 
large  pompadour,  and  a  sweet  smile.  No,  I  don't 
want  a  fan — that's  a  Lydia  Languish  trade-mark. 
And  two  silk  skirts  rustling  like  the  deadest 
weaves  imaginable.  Yes,  I  think  that  will  do. 
And  if  you  can't  hook  up  my  dress  without 
pecking  and  pecking  at  me  like  that,  I'll  probably 
go  stark,  staring  crazy,  Celestine,  and  then  you'll 
be  sorry.  No,  it  isn't  a  bit  tight — are  you 
perfectly  certain  there's  no  powder  behind  my 
ears,  Celestine?  Now,  please  try  to  fasten  the 
collar  without  pulling  all  my  hair  down.  Ye-es, 
I  think  that  will  do,  Celestine.  Well,  it's  very 
nice  of  you  to  say  so,  but  I  don't  believe  I  much 
fancy  myself  in  yellow,  after  all." 

Equipped  and  armed  for  conquest,  then,  she 
came  into  the  room  with  a  very  tolerable  affecta- 


246  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

tion  of  unconcern.  Altogether,  it  was  a  quite 
effective  entrance. 

"I've  been  for  a  little  drive,  Billy,"  she  men 
daciously  informed  him.  "That's  how  you  hap 
pen  to  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  me  in  all  my 
nice  new  store-clothes.  Aren't  you  pleased,  Billy  ? 
No,  don't  you  dare  get  up!"  Margaret  stood 
across  the  room,  peeling  off  her  gloves  and  regard 
ing  him  on  the  whole  with  disapproval.  "  They've 
been  starving  you,"  she  pensively  reflected.  "As 
soon  as  that  Jeal  person  goes  away,  I  shall  have 
six  little  beefsteaks  cooked  and  see  to  it  personally 
that  you  eat  every  one  of  them.  And  I'll  cook  a 
cherry  pie — quick  as  a  cat  can  wink  her  eye — 
won't  I,  Billy?  That  Jeal  person  is  a  decided 
nuisance,"  said  Miss  Hugonin,  as  she  stabbed  her 
hat  rather  viciously  with  two  hat-pins  and  then 
laid  it  aside  on  a  table. 

Billy  Woods  was  looking  up  at  her  forlornly. 
It  hurt  her  to  see  the  love  and  sorrow  in  his  face. 
But  oh,  how  avidly  his  soul  drank  in  the  modula 
tions  of  that  longed-for  voice — a  voice  that  was 
honey  and  gold  and  velvet  and  all  that  is  most 
sweet  and  rich  and  soft  in  the  world. 

"Peggy,"  said  he,  plunging  at  the  heart  of 
things,  "  where's  that  will  ? " 

Miss  Hugonin  kicked  forward  a  little  foot-stool 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  247 

to  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  and  sat  down  and 
complacently  smoothed  out  her  skirts. 

"I  knew  it!"  said  she.  "I  never  saw  such  a 
one-idea'd  person  in  my  life.  I  knew  that  would 
be  the  very  first  thing  you  would  ask  for,  Billy 
Woods,  because  you're  such  an  obstinate,  stiff- 
necked  donkey.  Very  well!"  —  and  Margaret 
tossed  her  head — "here's  Uncle  Fred's  will,  then, 
and  you  can  do  exactly  as  you  like  with  it,  and 
now  I  hope  you're  satisfied!"  And  Margaret 
handed  him  the  long  envelope  which  lay  in  her 
lap. 

Mr.  Woods  promptly  opened  it. 

"That,"  Miss  Hugonin  commented,  "is  what 
I  term  very  unladylike  behaviour  on  your  part. 
You  evidently  don't  trust  me,  Billy  Woods. 
Very  well !  I  don't  care  !  Read  it  carefully — 
very  carefully,  and  make  quite  sure  I  haven't 
been  dabbling  in  forgery  of  late — besides,  it's  so 
good  for  your  eyes,  you  know,  after  being  hit  over 
the  head,"  Margaret  suggested,  cheerfully. 

Billy  chuckled.  "That's  true,"  said  he,  "but 
I  know  Uncle  Fred's  fist  well  enough  without 
having  to  read  it  all.  Candidly,  Peggy,  I  had  to 
look  at  it,  because  I — well,  I  didn't  quite  trust 
you,  Peggy.  And  now  we're  going  to  burn  this 
interesting  paper,  you  and  I." 


248  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

"Wait!"  Margaret  cried.  "Ah,  wait,  just  a 
moment,  Billy !" 

He  glanced  up  at  her  in  surprise,  the  paper  still 
poised  in  his  hand. 

She  sat  with  head  drooped  forward,  her  mascu 
line  little  chin  thrust  out  eagerly,  her  candid 
eyes  transparently  appraising  him. 

"Why  are  you  going  to  burn  it,  Billy?" 

"Why?"  Mr.  Woods  repeated,  thoughtfully. 
"Well,  for  a  variety  of  reasons.  First  is,  that 
Uncle  Fred  really  did  leave  his  money  to  you, 
and  burning  this  is  the  only  way  of  making  sure 
you  get  it.  Why,  I  thought  you  wanted  me  to 
burn  it !  Last  time  I  saw  you " 

"  I  was  in  a  temper,"  said  Margaret,  haughtily. 
"You  ought  to  have  seen  that." 

"Yes,  I — er — noticed  it,"  Mr.  Woods  admitted, 
with  some  dryness;  "but  it  wasn't  only  temper. 
You've  grown  accustomed  to  the  money.  You'd 
miss  it  now — miss  the  pleasure  it  gives  you,  miss 
the  power  it  gives  you.  You'd  never  be  content 
to  go  back  to  the  old  life  now.  Why,  Peggy,  you 
yourself  told  me  you  thought  money  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world !  It  has  changed  you,  Peggy, 
this — ah,  well !"  said  Billy,  "we  won't  talk  about 
that.  I'm  going  to  burn  it  because  that's  the 
only  honourable  thing  to  do.  Ready,  Peggy?" 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  249 

"It  may  be  honourable,  but  it's  extremely 
silly,"  Margaret  temporised,  "and  for  my  part, 
I'm  very,  very  glad  God  had  run  out  of  a  sense 
of  honour  when  He  created  the  woman." 

"  Phrases  don't  alter  matters.    Ready,  Peggy  ? " 

"Ah,  no,  phrases  don't  alter  matters!"  she 
assented,  with  a  quick  lift  of  speech.  "You're 
going  to  destroy  that  will,  Billy  Woods,  simply 
because  you  think  I'm  a  horrid,  mercenary, 
selfish  pig.  You  think  I  couldn't  give  up  the 
money — you  think  I  couldn't  be  happy  without 
it.  Well,  you  have  every  right  to  think  so,  after 
the  way  I've  behaved.  But  why  not  tell  me 
that  is  the  real  reason?" 

Billy  raised  his  hand  in  protest.  "  I — I  think 
you  might  miss  it,"  he  conceded.  "Yes,  I 
think  you  would  miss  it." 

"Listen!"  said  Margaret,  quickly.  "The 
money  is  yours  now — by  my  act.  You  say  you — 
care  for  me.  If  I  am  the  sort  of  woman  you 
think  me — I  don't  say  I  am,  and  I  don't  say  I'm 
not — but  thinking  me  that  sort  of  woman,  don't 
you  think  I'd — I'd  marry  you  for  the  asking  if 
you  kept  the  money?  Don't  you  think  you're 
losing  every  chance  of  me  by  burning  that  will  ? 
Oh,  I'm  not  standing  on  conventionalities  now ! 
Don't  you  think  that,  Billy?" 


250  THE  EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

She  was  tempting  him  to  the  uttermost;  and 
her  heart  was  sick  with  fear  lest  he  might  yield. 
This  was  the  Eagle's  last  battle;  and  recreant 
Love  fought  with  the  Eagle  against  poor  Billy, 
who  had  only  his  honour  to  help  him. 

Margaret's  face  was  pale  as  she  bent  toward 
him,  her  lips  parted  a  little,  her  eyes  glinting 
eerily  in  the  firelight.  The  room  was  dark  now 
save  in  the  small  radius  of  its  amber  glow ;  beyond 
that  was  darkness  where  panels  and  brasses 
blinked. 

''Yes,"  said  Billy,  gravely — "forgive  me  if 
I'm  wrong,  dear,  but — I  do  think  that.  But 
you  see  you  don't  care  for  me,  Peggy.  In  the 
summer-house  I  thought  for  a  moment — ah,  well, 
you've  shown  in  a  hundred  ways  that  you  don't 
care — and  I  wouldn't  have  you  come  to  me, 
not  caring.  So  I'm  going  to  burn  the  paper, 
dear." 

Margaret  bowed  her  head.  Had  she  ever 
known  happiness  before  ? 

"  It  is  not  very  flattering  to  me,"  she  said,  "but 
it  shows  that  you — care — a  great  deal.  You 
care  enough  to — let  me  go.  Ah — yes.  You  may 
burn  it  now,  Billy." 

And  promptly  he  tossed  it  into  the  flames. 
For  a  moment  it  lay  unharmed;  then  the  edges 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  251 

caught  and  crackled  and  blazed,  and  their  heads 
drew  near  together  as  they  watched  it  burn. 

There  (thought  Billy)  is  the  end !  Ah,  ropes, 
daggers,  and  poisons !  there  is  the  end !  Oh, 
Peggy,  Peggy,  if  you  could  only  have  loved  me ! 
if  only  this  accursed  money  hadn't  spoiled  you 
so  utterly !  Billy  was  quite  properly  miserable 
over  it. 

But  he  raised  his  head  with  a  smile.  "And 
now,"  said  he — and  not  without  a  little,  little 
bitterness;  "if  I  have  any  right  to  advise  you, 
Peggy,  I — I  think  I'd  be  more  careful  in  the 
future  as  to  how  I  used  the  money.  You've 
tried  to  do  good  with  it,  I  know.  But  every 
good  cause  has  its  parasites.  Don't  trust  entirely 
to  the  Haggages  and  Jukesburys,  Peggy,  and— ' 
and  don't  desert  the  good  ship  Philanthropy 
because  there  are  a  few  barnacles  on  it,  dear." 

"You  make  me  awfully  tired,"  Miss  Hugonin 
observed,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  "  How  do  you 
suppose  I'm  going  to  do  anything  for  Philanthropy 
or  any  other  cause  when  I  haven't  a  penny  in  the 
world  ?  You  see,  you've  just  burned  the  last  will 
Uncle  Fred  ever  made — the  one  that  left  every 
thing  to  me.  The  one  in  your  favour  was  pro 
bated  or  proved  or  whatever  they  call  it  a  week 
ago." 


252  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

I  think  Billy  was  surprised. 

She  stood  over  him,  sharply  outlined  against 
the  darkness,  clasping  her  hands  tightly  just 
under  her  chin,  ludicrously  suggestive  of  a  pre- 
Raphaelitish  saint.  In  the  firelight  her  hair  was 
an  aureole;  and  her  gown,  yellow  with  multi 
tudinous  tiny  arabesques  of  black  velvet,  echoed 
the  glow  of  her  hair  to  a  shade.  The  dancing 
flames  made  of  her  a  flickering  little  yellow 
wraith.  And  oh,  the  quaint  tenderness  of  her 
eyes ! — oh,  the  hint  of  faint,  nameless  perfume 
she  diffused !  thus  ran  the  meditations  of  Billy's 
dizzied  brain. 

"  Listen  !  I  told  you  I  burned  the  other  will. 
I  started  to  burn  it.  But  I  was  afraid  to,  because 
I  didn't  know  what  they  could  do  to  me  if  I  did. 
So  I  put  it  away  in  my  little  handkerchief -box 
— and  if  you'd  had  a  grain  of  sense  you'd  have 
noticed  the  orris  on  it.  And  you  made  me 
promise  not  to  take  any  steps  in  the  matter  till 
you  got  well.  I  knew  you  would.  So  I  had 
already  sent  that  second  will — sent  it  before  I 
promised  you — to  Hunston  Wyke — he's  my 
lawyer  now,  you  know — and  I've  heard  from 
him,  and  he  has  probated  it." 

Billy  was  making  various  irrelevant  sounds. 

"And  I  brought  that  other  will  to  you,  and  if 


THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW  253 

you  didn't  choose  to  examine  it  more  carefully 
I'm  sure  it  wasn't  my  fault.  I  kept  my  word  like 
a  perfect  gentleman  and  took  no  step  whatever 
in  the  matter.  I  didn't  say  a  word  when  before 
my  eyes  you  stripped  me  of  my  entire  worldly 
possessions — you  know  I  didn't.  You  burned 
it  up  yourself,  Billy  Woods — of  your  own  free 
will  and  accord — and  now  Selwoode  and  all  that 
detestable  money  belongs  to  you,  and  I'm  sure 
I'd  like  to  know  what  you  are  going  to  do  about 
it.  So  there!" 

Margaret  faced  him  defiantly.  Billy  was  in 
a  state  of  considerable  perturbation. 

"Why  have  you  done  this?"  he  asked,  slowly. 
But  a  lucent  something — half  fear,  half  gladness 
— was  wakening  in  Billy's  eyes. 

And  her  eyes  answered  him.  But  her  tongue 
was  far  less  veracious. 

"  Because  you  thought  I  was  a  pig  !  Because 
you  couldn't  make  allowances  for  a  girl  who  for 
four  years  has  seen  nothing  but  money  and  money- 
worshippers  and  the  power  of  money !  Because 
I  wanted  your — your  respect,  Billy.  And  you 
thought  I  couldn't  give  it  up!  Very  well!" 
Miss  Hugonin  waved  her  hand  airily  toward  the 
hearth.  "  Now  I  hope  you  know  better.  Don't 
you  dare  get  up,  Billy  Woods  ! " 


254  THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW 

But  I  think  nothing  short  of  brute  force  could 
have  kept  Mr.  Woods  from  her. 

" Peggy,"  he  babbled— "ah,  forgive  me  if  I'm 
a  presumptuous  ass — but  was  it  because  you 
knew  I  couldn't  ask  you  to  marry  me  so  long  as 
you  had  the  money?" 

She  dallied  with  her  bliss.  Margaret  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  table. 

"Why — why,  of  course  it  wasn't !"  she  panted. 
"  What  nonsense  ! " 

"  Look  at  me,  Peggy  ! " 

"  I  don't  want  to  !  You  look  like  a  fright  with 
your  head  all  tied  up." 

"Peggy  .  .  .  this  exercise  is  bad  for  an 
invalid." 

"  I — oh,  please  sit  down  !  Please,  Billy  !  It 
is  bad  for  you." 

"  Not  until  you  tell  me " 

"But  I  don't!  .  .  .  Oh,  you  make  me 
awfully  tired." 

"Peggy,  don't  you  dare  stamp  your  foot  at 
me!  .  .  .  Peggy!" 

"  Please  sit  down !  Now  .  .  .  well,  there's 
my  hand,  stupid,  if  you  will  be  silly.  Now  sit 
down  here — so,  with  your  head  leaned  back  on 
this  nice  little  cushion  because  it's  good  for  your 
poor  head — and  I'll  sit  on  this  nice  little  footstool 


THE  EAGLE'S  SHADOW  255 

and  be  quite,  quite  honest.  No,  you  must  lean 
back — I  don't  care  if  you  can't  see  me,  I'd  much 
rather  you  couldn't.  Well,  the  truth  is — no, 
you  must  lean  back — the  truth  is — I've  loved 
you  all  my  life,  Billy  Woods,  and — no,  not  yet, 
Billy — and  if  you  hadn't  been  the  stupidest 
beautiful  in  the  universe  you'd  have  seen  it 
long  ago.  You — you  needn't — lean  back — any 
longer,  Billy  .  .  .  Oh,  Billy,  why  didn't  you 
shave?" 

"  She  is  skinny,  isn't  she,  Billy?" 

"Now,  Peggy,  you  mustn't  abuse  Kathleen. 
She's  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  Well,  I  know  she's  a  friend  of  yours,  but  that 
doesn't  prevent  her  being  skinny,  does  it?" 

"Now,  Peggy " 

"  Please,  Billy  !     Please  say  she's  skinny  ! " 

"Er — well,  she's  a  bit  thin,  perhaps." 

"You  angel!" 

"And  you're  quite  sure  you've  forgiven  me 
for  doubting  you?" 

"And  you've  forgiven  me  ?" 

"Bless  you,  Peggy,  I  never  doubted  you! 
I've  been  too  busy  loving  you." 

"  It  seems  to  me  as  if  it  had  been — always." 


256  THE   EAGLE'S   SHADOW 

"  Why,  didn't  we  love  one  another  in  Carthage, 
Peggy?" 

"  I  think  it  was  in  Babylon,  Billy." 

"  And  will  love  one  another ? " 

"Forever  and  ever,  dear.  You've  been  to 
seek  a  wife,  Billy  boy." 

"And  oh,  the  dimple  in  her  chin     .     .     ." 

Ah,  well !  There  was  a  deal  of  foolish  prattle 
there  in  the  firelight — delectable  prattle,  irre 
sponsible  as  the  chattering  of  birds  after  a  storm. 
And  I  fancy  that  the  Eagle's  shadow  is  lifted 
from  Selwoode,  now  that  Love  has  taken  up  his 
abode  there. 


THE  END 


.YB  32296 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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